After The Veil
by homeric
Summary: Sirius Black finds himself brought back to life with more questions than answers and a whole load of complications. Sirius/ofc, some Charlie/ofc. Slightly AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

**A/N The plot of this story started out as "Beyond the Veil" before I literally and figuratively lost the plot. The idea bugged me though, so this is a complete re-write. Thanks to Emily who was kind enough to go through my work before and point out my mistakes. All errors here are mine.**

"Sir?"

Harry Potter put down the enchanted cigar box that he had been holding and turned to face Alison, his assistant. She looked so eager that inwardly he sighed and wondered whether the kids that graduated from Hogworts were getting younger, or if he was getting older. After five days of clearing out the cave that Voldemort's supporters had stashed a veritable dragons nest of valuables, he was decidedly fed up. Being an Auror these days sounded a hell of a lot more glamorous than the reality, he thought grumpily. Voldemort was dead, his remaining supporters scattered, and while he loved his job, he hadn't imagined it being quite so tedious for the most part. Five days in this ancient, and frankly imposing place and the only frightening thing they had discovered was that some Death Eaters had terrible taste in reading material and a Hand of Glory doesn't work when rats eat half the fingers off it.

"Yes Alison?" He tried to arrange his face into a suitably interested expression as the blonde girl approached him. Five days into their assignment and she was still calling him "sir," despite his protests. Judging by her flushed cheeks and the way she kept her eyes fixed on the floor, she wasn't going to be making eye contact anytime soon either. Being a legend, even a reluctant one, was not exactly conducive to working relationships.

"I found this." Tentatively she passed him a small silver object. "It's clear for dark magic, but it's definitely magical. I wondered.. You know… Perhaps you might know?"

Harry looked at the object in his palm. It was small, silver, and obviously some sort of tea pot. Repressing the urge to sigh, he smiled at his assistant who promptly blushed and decided that the work bench to her left was now a source of endless fascination. The enchanted cigar box seemed to scent his distraction and took the opportunity to try and scuttle off the table, but Harry caught it before it could make its escape and after muttering a swift stunning spell, passed it over to Alison. She held it gingerly before her.

"Put it with the rest of the magical anomalies," Harry said after a moment's silence. Honestly, the girl was nice enough, but had her father not been the new head of the Wizengamot she'd have been lucky to make it as a tea lady in the ministry of magic. Now he was stuck with her and uncomfortably aware that not only was she completely clueless when it came to identifying dark magic, but apparently had a huge crush on him as well. Watching her hurry off, he let out a frustrated sigh. The day couldn't end quickly enough as far as he was concerned. For a moment he forgot his irritation when he patted his pocket for the two hundred and fiftieth time that day.

Yup, still there.

A little lump tucked deep in the folds of his utilitarian (and not particularly flattering) work robes. A little lump that had cost him two months salary. A little lump that, depending on one word from Ginny, would signal either the start of a new future or a crushing heartbreak and humiliation. Idly he traced the faint circle of the ring through the cloth. Goblin wrought silver with a ruby almost as red as her hair. Not too flashy or ostentatious - best to leave that to the Malfoys of this world - but special, precious; like Ginny herself really.

Leaning back against the table that he had pronounced slightly irritable, but no real threat, Harry resisted the urge to take the ring out of his pocket and polish it again. Instead he looked at the little tea - pot that Alison had given him. On closer inspection it looked a bit strange to be a tea-pot; small, silver and squat, it sat in Harry's palm and the reflection of his green eyes narrowed on its shiny sides as he studied it. He tapped it with his wand and muttered several spells that would reveal dark magic or curses, but nothing happened. Molly Weasley might like it, Harry thought idly; Merlin knew that she was fond of knick-knacks. But that in turn meant thinking about the fact that she may or may not be his prospective mother in law in a few hours, and that in turn meant thinking about the fact that he had no bloody clue about how he was going to word his proposal.

If only he had someone to talk to - someone who could give an objective opinion. For a moment he thought of ringing up Dudley and gave an unwitting snort of laughter. Alison looked around in alarm and Harry did his best to form his face into an I'm-really-not-mad-honestly sort of expression. With a pang of sadness he remembered his godfather. Padfoot would have known what to do, the right words to say. Idly polishing a rough spot on the tea-pot that had warmed in his hand and now seemed strangely comforting, Harry pictured his godfather. Even when he had been scruffy and emaciated he had held himself with a confidence that Harry couldn't begin to emulate, even when he was effectively under house arrest at Grimmauld Place he had been imposing.

"I wish that you were still here, Sirius" he said almost under his breath.

A sudden crash and a sharp cry, meant that he slammed the tea-pot down and hurried over to rescue Alison from an over-turned crate of old Witch Weekly magazines before he felt the "tea-pot" start to shake.

Shuddering and emitting a faint blue glow, the "tea-pot" fell off the table, and somewhere dark, beyond time and space, Sirius Black found himself thrown unceremoniously back into his corporeal body and dumped onto a cold stone floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Derek Osaka was bored.

_No, that was understatement_, he thought, digging around in his duffel coat for the few Every Flavour Beans that he knew were mildewing quietly in the bottom of his pocket. Boredom had long been replaced with whatever it was that mummies felt before their sarcophagus' were opened and they got to walk around again (after some clever obliviate spells had been cast upon the daft muggles who had opened them up for reasons best known to themselves of course). _And what did mummies think of when they were all locked up like that? _He wondered. Amon Ra, the newly re-instated head of wizard and mummy relations looked like a fairly nice bloke when he was interviewed by the Daily Prophet, but having nothing but your own thoughts to listen to must drive you a bit mental - not to mention having to wander around wrapped in what looked like toilet paper all the time. _But not as mental as having an over-protective mum who takes you to work because she's scared to leave you alone, _Derek thought grumpily, abandoning all thoughts of Egyptian so-called allies.

Leaning against the cold stone of a particularly quiet corridor, he picked the fluff from an elderly Every Flavour bean. From the green colour it could have been anything from peppermint to algae, but he popped it into his mouth nonetheless, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in fact pear. Albeit pear with a distinct aftertaste of ancient-bits-at-the-bottom-of-his-pocket.

He hadn't wanted to go with his mother to the Ministry of Magic, although when he had been younger he had begged to do so. _He had been really young then though,_ he thought to himself. That had been before Voldemort had taken it over, before his mum came back from work with smiles that looked too tight on her face and cried when he had gotten his owl inviting him to Hogwarts. Now he was at the place that had always seemed vast and mysterious and actually found himself wanting to go back to school, even though he knew that professor Binns would most likely give him detention for the scroll he had written - or to be more accurate- not written, on eighteenth century Troll wars.

Rubbing a hand through his short dark hair, Derek paused mid chew when he heard the echo of footsteps approach. He wasn't supposed to have wandered away from his mother's office, and for the first time since slipping away he realised quite how much trouble he might get into if he was caught. More importantly, he realised how much trouble his mother might be in if he was discovered wandering around the inventory warehouses without a permit spell. Whoever it was that was coming was walking fast, and trying to be as quiet as possible, Derek darted down the corridor he had been lurking in, trying first one door before the next. None of the doorknobs turned either by an Alohomora spell or by physical force, until unwittingly falling back after a failed spell, Derek found himself tumbling backwards through a doorway.

_He was in some sort of storeroom_, Derek realised. The room must have been magically extended, because dimly lit or not this was a bloody big place, far bigger than would comfortably fit over the offices that must have been built upon it. Turning slowly, he took in his surroundings. To call it a warehouse would have been being too kind. The ceiling was high, the walls wide, but the many different things crammed into the place seemed to have been stuffed in haphazardly. A stuffed Kneazle was squashed beneath a statue of… Derek squinted but couldn't quite work out what the marble figurine was supposed to represent. Several hundred glass orbs sat upon shelves in the centre of the room, those that seemed to have been broken emitting smoke that whispered quietly to themselves. And beyond that was a heap of gold that would turn any dragon green (well those that weren't Welsh and green already) with envy. The temptation to go over to the pile and stuff his pockets was tempting, but Derek fought the urge down. This wasn't a wizarding jumble sale; it was obviously a place where important, perhaps dangerous things were kept. After the fall of the ministry and the triumph of Harry Potter over the Dark Lord there had been a lot of things that had needed sorting out - the long hours his mother worked was testament to that. This room could hold anything from cursed items taken from Death Eaters to the contents of Dumbledore's attic (and the old headmaster had been a legendary hoarder from what his uncle had said). It was best to keep his hands to himself.

The faint bang of a door being opened nearby reminded Derek of the reason that he was currently ankle deep in ancient wizarding memorabilia, and glancing swiftly around for a hiding place, he scurried behind what looked like a giant curtain. Holding his breath for as long as he could, he let it out with a sharp sigh when it became clear that no-one was following him. In the silence that followed his sharp exhalation, Derek became aware of a faint noise. Not anything frightening, nor indeed noticeable had he not been so aware of every sound around him, but there nonetheless. A soft whispering that sounded as though it came from the curtain. He gave the curtain a distrustful look. It would be just his luck if a boggart was hiding behind there, ready to leap out in the form of a giant Eagle with an old woman's head and glowing eyes. Pulling his wand from the pocket of his jeans, Derek curled his fingers around the slender piece of wood and started a mental chant of _Riddikulus,Riddikulus,Riddikulus. Imagine a harpy with no eyes,_ he thought frantically. _No, that was scarier than a harpy that actually _did _have eyes, _he realised. _Okay, a harpy with only…_

Stumbling backwards, he tripped over a wooden chest, his hands flailing for any sort of purchase and catching on the curtain. The material ripped from its frame with a noise that could only be described as a scream, the heavy cloth knocking a dozen glass globes from the shelves beside it, before settling gently upon the ground, covering Derek and muffling the shriek of fright he had emitted when the glass had come hurtling towards him.

The cloth that covered his face was musty smelling, but it had shielded him from any serious injury, Derek realised when he calmed down enough to disentangle himself from it. Being careful not to cut himself on the many shards of glass that surrounded him, he watched in wonder as a half dozen tiny wraiths slipped free of their broken prisons and started speaking. They all spoke quietly, and it was impossible to distinguish one voice from another, but Derek got up reluctantly; _who knew what secrets the little ghosts had to tell?_ Time, however, was not on his side. Getting away with a quick wander and sulk was one thing, demolishing a… well a big thing in a warehouse of Merlin only knew what was quite another. The sooner he escaped from the scene of the crime the better. If he managed to get to his mum and act innocent before the damage was discovered then no-one need even know that he had been here. He was halfway to his feet, his eyes fixed firmly on the door, when the the room seemed to shudder, knocking the remaining glass globes over and sending half a dozen bookcases crashing to the ground. Derek staggered, regained his balance, and looked in baffled surprise at the lump that had suddenly appeared beneath the fallen curtain. _Sort of person sized, _he thought warily. _But that was stupid wasn't it? He'd have seen a mannequin or another person if they'd been here before he'd effectively trashed the place. It was just a load of junk that had fallen in a weird way, that was all._ Torn between running for the door or investigating further, his inquisitive nature overruled his common sense and he tentatively poked the side of the fallen curtain.

Nothing happened.

Turning away he almost giggled in relief when a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, causing him to drop his wand in shock.

"Who are you boy?" The voice was low and commanding, the man who had uttered the words looking up at him with fierce dark eyes. Derek watched as the man untangled himself from the remnants of the destroyed curtain, his neck craning backwards when the stranger got to his feet. Tall and imposing, the man stood before him, his shaggy dark hair falling over his eyes, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of his arm. Swallowing hard, Derek spoke the first word that came to mind.

"Eeep!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

"Who are you boy?"

Sirius Black looked down at the child that he had grabbed and shook his head, trying to bring the boy's face into focus. _When I fell through that strange curtain I must have landed in another room_, he thought worriedly. That meant that Harry was out there somewhere, it meant that the kids who had accompanied him were out there, and it meant…. A barrage of images flooded his mind, and Sirius almost let go of the child that he held. Bellatrix had hit him with an Avada Kedavra spell, and his cousin did not bother with such societal conventions as mercy. The memory slammed into his brain as though he had been hit by the Knight Bus. He was dead. He had fallen through the strange curtain that lay by his feet and died. But then where in the name of Merlin's balls was he? Was this what the afterlife was? Glancing around at the piled up junk that surrounded him, he looked once again at the boy. _Whether he was in heaven or hell, they really ought to re-think their hiring policies_, he thought with an amusement that was dangerously close to hysteria. The boy looked to be about twelve years old and was obviously scared out of his wits. Almond shaped eyes watched him with undisguised horror; as an angel perhaps sent to lead him to heaven, he was a pretty poor choice, Sirius thought, finally regaining his wits about him, but as a devil sent to take him to hell the kid was abysmal. Weren't angels supposed to be serene and imps, well, impish? Wherever this was, it certainly wasn't the afterlife - more like a wizard car boot sale.

"Where are we?" he asked finally, since it seemed clear that the boy wasn't going to speak any time soon.

The child opened his mouth a couple of times wordlessly, before he found his voice.

"Holding warehouses," Derek muttered nervously. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in your way, and I haven't done any damage." He tried not to glance down at the curtain that both he and the stranger were standing on. "So if you'll just let me leave then I'll just go and be quiet… or, you know, not cause trouble elsewhere."

"Holding warehouses?" Sirius asked, giving their surroundings a sidelong glance. The boy was obviously terrified of him, and he made an attempt to appear a little less threatening. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just a bit lost. What's your name?" He gave the kid an attempt at a smile that resulted in the child attempting to back away even further. "Who do you work for?"

"I sort out the papers for Mr Crispet's newsagents on Sundays," Derek said slowly. "But that's only in the school holidays." The man that had a hold of his arm showed no sign of letting go, and unfortunately his wand lay on the floor a good two feet away. If he just kept talking then perhaps his captor might let down his guard, enabling him to grab it and make his escape…

"I'll have that for the moment if you don't mind," Sirius said, following the boy's gaze and grabbing the wand without letting go of him. He didn't think that the boy was associated with the Death Eaters who even now were probably hunting down his godson, but confused and wandless, it wasn't prudent to take things at face value. "I won't hurt you, and you are free to go as soon as it's safe, but just let me know what is happening, alright?"

Derek looked at him in confusion. The man who held him was strong, but obviously mental - perhaps there was a holding cell for nutters down the hall and this one had escaped. There were all sorts of things kept in the holding rooms: it wouldn't be too much of a stretch of the imagination to think that a few nutcases might have been stashed away for questioning or whatever the Ministry of Magic did to the few Death Eaters that remained. He resisted the urge to tear himself out of his captor's grip. The man who held him was strong, and in any case, there was no way was he leaving without his wand. His mum had bought him that wand. It was a part of him, and he wouldn't let it go without a fight.

Submissively, Derek let the strange man turn him around and met his grey eyes. His muggle great aunt Flo was always moaning about strange people sitting down next to her on the bus - what was it that she did to get away? Tell people what they want to hear and then make your escape. True, it had mostly been with regard to old women talking about the war - the muggle one, not the "proper" one, but it might still work. Derek dropped his eyes and gave a crafty glance towards the door.

"I don't know what you mean, Sir," he said with as much bravado that he could muster. "What do you think is happening?"

"What do I…." Resisting the urge to shake the boy, Sirius gritted his teeth and forced himself to answer calmly. "Where's Harry, Harry Potter? Vol.. He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers are here, and I have to stop him. You can't stay here, it isn't safe. Tell me where they are and then hide; I'll make sure that we come back for you."

Harry Potter? The man was definitely several Chocolate Frog cards short of a full set, Derek thought. He might have laughed at what had just been said had circumstances been different, but instead he nodded with an attempt at seriousness. _Go along with him, get him back to the offices and get your wand back_, he thought with a clarity that was completely at odds with the fear that was twisting his stomach into knots. Taking an escaped nutcase to a place where security patrolled regularly, if not particularly thoroughly, was the most intelligent course of action, and one that would put the fewest people at risk - after all, almost everyone in the offices, his mother included, was in a meeting on the third floor.

"Umm, yeah." Thinking quickly, Derek gave the man his best attempt at a smile. "Harry Potter's just down there." He pointed to the open doorway. "Down the corridor. If you'll just give me my wand back then I'll stay here and you can go and find him."

"Sorry." The man shook his shaggy head. "It's not safe, and believe me I've probably had more Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons than you." He gave Derek a wink, and for a moment the boy paused. Could you make jokes if you were a nutter? He didn't have time to wonder. His wrist was caught in an iron grip, and he found himself pulled towards the doorway before he could make even a squeak of protest. Looking around cautiously, Sirius found the corridor clear, but did not lower his wand. "Which way?" he whispered.

"Left." Derek let himself be pulled behind his captor, but shot a longing glance at the wand that he held. It looked a little small and silly in the man's big hand, but he obviously knew how to use it, and given the way his body was tense but well controlled, grey eyes taking in everything around him, the man wasn't new to combat either. Together they hurried down the narrow pathway until they reached the entrance to the foyer. The checkpoint for the inventory rooms was guarded by a security wizard, but, Derek realised with relief, Andy Tiblett was still on duty, and still asleep with a half finished crossword on his lap.

"He's ok," Derek said nervously. "I mean he's not … whatever you're against," he clarified hastily to the man who was essentially holding him captive. "You don't need to hurt him."

Sirius gave the boy a brief nod before leading him past the guard. Something was very wrong here, but he couldn't be sure whether that was down to his disorientation or his surroundings. This was the Ministry of Magic alright, but it was strange. Different. The foyer was as huge and grand as ever, but the statue that had dominated it had changed. Blinking in disbelief, Sirius almost let go of Derek when he realised what he was looking at. There was no horrific statue depicting wizards crushing muggles beneath them; instead there was the figure of a wizard who looked uncannily like Harry Potter standing proudly next to the likeness of a house-elf and a centaur, a huge bronze giant towering above them benevolently.

"When did this happen?" Sirius asked softly. Recovering himself a little, he looked down at the young boy who tried not to meet his eyes. "Derek, I promised that I wouldn't hurt you and I meant it, but please tell me how this statue got here."

Derek gave him a mistrustful look. "It's been here for ages. Since Harry Potter killed Voldemort. Everyone knows that." Realising that he had said too much, Derek was saved from trying to explain himself by the rhythmic pounding of footsteps descending the staircase behind them. Eyes widening as he recognised the dark haired woman who followed the neatly dressed man down the stairs, Derek panicked.

"Mum!" Wriggling free of Sirius' grasp, Derek bolted towards her. "Run! He's got my wand!"

"What?" The woman's brown eyes widened when they found Sirius, and swearing silently to himself, he turned and ran towards the exit, startling the guards who had been too busy chatting to notice the kerfuffle behind them. The London air hit him like a sack full of memories. The smell of wet stone and diesel smoke, the familiar cacophony of traffic and voices familiar and yet distant. Stumbling over the curb, he dropped the wand he had taken from the boy and narrowly missed being hit by a car, transforming into his dog form as soon as he dodged into the nearest house's overgrown garden. Stretching muscles that had been unused for.. Well how long? He wondered. Either he was in some sort of alternate dimension or those few moments that he had spent in that bloody curtain had been a hell of a lot longer than they had seemed. He resisted the urge to give a bark of joy. If the latter was true then Harry was safe and Voldemort was dead. If it was the former then Merlin only knew what was happening. Everything seemed the same, though, he thought to himself. A tourist bus rumbled past, the people upon it looking eagerly at their surroundings and yet barely noticing the back entrance to the Ministry of Magic, which, although modest given the size of the building, would nonetheless have given cause for comment were it not for the concealment spells that protected it.

He would have turned away and not looked back, were it not for the woman who stumbled down the Ministry's steps. Although she was slight of build, she was arguing with the guard who held her arm fiercely; almost as fiercely as Derek, his unwilling accomplice was. Cheeks flushed, her hands clenched into fists, she was obviously not prepared when the man shoved her backwards. Stumbling, she tripped on the curb and fell onto the road, directly into the path of the bus.

Sirius didn't take the time to think about what he was doing. Bounding forwards, he leapt over the garden wall and raced past the bus, grabbing the stricken woman by the collar of her shirt with his teeth and shoving her back onto the pavement. There was no time to avoid it himself. For a moment he met her eyes, wide, dark and totally confused, before it slammed into him and everything went black


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

_Ow_. For a moment that was all that Sarah Osaka's mind could register. Slammed hard against the pavement by some "thing", she found herself unable to do anything but wheeze like a landed fish in an attempt to get some air back into her lungs. At the edge of her mind she could dimly register a babble of voices and could feel someone grab her hand, but it took several minutes before her vision cleared enough to focus on her son's face. Derek peered down at her with terrified brown eyes and she made an attempt to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"Mum?" He asked worriedly, "Are you alright?"

_No, not really_, Sarah thought, moving her limbs cautiously. Both arms and legs moved when she tested them, but her head swam when she sat up, and from the way her ribs protested she was pretty sure that she'd have some spectacular bruises in a couple of days.

"I'll live." Giving her son a smile, she struggled to her feet. She'd been arguing with the guard hadn't she? Remembrance seeped through her confused mind and Sarah brushed the worst of the dirt off her skirt primly, ignoring the fact that her tights were laddered beyond repair and her bottom lip stung with the metallic taste of blood. The guard in question watched her with outright panic.

"Look. Lady, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean… I mean your boy was helping that man. I couldn't just…" The guard tapped his wand against his leg repetitively, his young face twisted with anguish. "Are you alright? I could get one of the healers. It's my first week see? I don't…"

Sarah listened to him prattle on, understanding perhaps half of it and sighed. The kid, and he was a kid; from his slightly pockmarked skin to the way that he had half untucked his uniform in a tiny display of rebellion, he practically screamed "fresh out of Hogwarts and failed badly enough at OWLs to grab the first job opportunity that came to hand." Now, shifting nervously from foot to foot, he looked at her imploringly and she felt the anger at the youth who had frogmarched her son out of the Ministry of Magic and almost got her killed, wane.

"I'm fine," she said quietly, getting to her feet. "Shouldn't you be off looking for the man that had been holding my son captive?"

"Yeah. I mean I'll do that." The young guard made a hasty exit, pausing only once to apologise again.

"Mum." Derek's hand was warm and familiar in hers as he tugged it to get her attention, but the look on his face was worried. "The dog. The dog's hurt."

"Dog?" Confused, Sarah followed her son's gaze. Underneath the wheely bin that was parked as camouflage for the Ministry of Magic's front steps was a dark shape. A still, unmoving shape, but definitely one of the canine persuasion.

"The dog that pushed you out of the way." Obviously satisfied that his mum was alright, Derek ran over to the stricken dog and touched it tentatively. "Come on, we've got to help it," he called out. "It got hit by a bus."

A bus. A dark thing knocking her out of the way… "Sweet Merlin", Sarah whispered, hurrying over. The dog was big, its shaggy coat black as midnight, but not of a breed that she could identify with her limited knowledge of other people's pets. Pulling it out from underneath the wheely bin carefully but with no little effort, Sarah did a quick check as to the animal's injuries. The right front leg was broken; from the way it was twisted anyone would have noticed that, and from her tentative touch the animal's ribcage seemed wrong, as did its laboured breathing. Rocking back on her heels, she tried to think of the best course of action. There were healers at the Ministry but they wouldn't exactly welcome her dragging some muggle's pet into be treated and she was in enough trouble as it was.

"We've got to help it." Derek's voice was decisive and Sarah nodded. Goodness knew what the Ministry would think when she turned up tomorrow. Bringing her son to work was against regulations; that the aforesaid son had managed to promptly get held hostage by a mad-man wouldn't go down well either - but all that would have to wait. The animal needed help and there wasn't time to wrestle with bureaucracy. Slipping off her coat she draped it over the dog and reached for her son's hand. After casting a quick invisibility spell she apparated them together, their disappearance noticed by no-one but a slightly perturbed tramp who blinked once and then settled back down into his bed of old newspapers.

* * *

"Charlie!"

Engrossed in the latest edition of Wizarding Geographic magazine, it took a moment for the stocky red-head to work out where the noise was coming from, but recognising the voice of his school-boy crush turned best friend, Charlie Weasley unfurled himself from the chair he had been sitting in and padded into the next room. Sarah Osaka's head bobbed strangely in the kitchen fireplace, her eyes brightening when he approached her.

"About bloody time," she scolded, "I've been calling for five minutes - what are you, deaf?"

"Sorry." Yawning widely, Charlie crouched down beside the fireplace. "You might give a bloke a bit of notice when you fancy a chat though. I could be in bed with a Veela or something for all you know."

"You were probably reading something complicated and boring about animals if I know you," Sarah retorted. "Anyway, I didn't come here for a chat. I've got a dog that's been hit by a car at my house, would you mind coming over and taking a look at it? I'm sorry to ask, but you know me and muggles - if I take it to the verian… Vetrian…"

"Veterinarian?" Charlie asked mildly.

"Oh you know what I mean," Sarah said crossly. "Animal doctor. Veteri-whatsit. I'll just make an idiot out of myself and end up having to obliviate half a dozen people. The stupid thing saved my life and it's probably in a lot of pain. Come on Charlie, I don't know who else to ask." She gave him an imploring look, but she needn't have done so. They'd been friends for years and any mention of an animal in trouble was enough incentive for him to take action.

"Alright," he agreed resignedly. "Give me five minutes, I'm on my way. You can explain to me how you've decided to turn Doctor Doolittle on me then."

The bobbing head ensconced in green flame looked puzzled. "Isn't Doolittle the minister for the control of magical portraits? What are you on about?"

Shaking his head, Charlie smiled. "It's a muggle thing, don't ask. See you in a minute."

Thanks, Charlie, I owe you one." With a relieved smile Sarah was gone, leaving only the merrily crackling fire behind her.

Letting out a sigh, Charlie got to his feet, unhooking a sweatshirt from its perch upon the chair, his bare feet toeing his trainers from under the sink. Tugging them on, not bothering with tying the laces, he grabbed his wand and apparated with a faint pop.

* * *

Sarah fidgeted anxiously as she waited for her friend to arrive. Although she wasn't much more than a glorified clerical assistant, she had seen enough in the war to make sure that her home was protected with some strong spells and kept the number of people that were permitted to apparate there to a minimum. The pop that Charlie made as he arrived in the hallway was therefore unusual enough to bring Derek bounding down the stairs, away from the dog he had been tending.

"Thanks Charlie." Sarah gave the somewhat tousled red-head a grateful smile. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have asked, but…"

Charlie shrugged and waved the question away. "Doesn't matter. Where's the dog?"

"It's in the bedroom. Derek, could you make us all some hot chocolate?" Sarah asked, hustling Charlie up the stairs of her small cottage, a smile flitting across her face when Charlie gave Derek a pat on the shoulder and a "hello mate" as he passed. "I didn't think that it would fit on the couch so I put it on my bed."

"Better hope that it doesn't have fleas then," he muttered, following his friend into her bedroom. The small room was lit with several everlasting candles and there was still a little light cast by the setting sun outside the window, but even so it was a little difficult to make out the form of the animal that lay upon the witch's bed.

"Hey there boy," Charlie murmured quietly. "Or girl. Let's have a look at you." Keeping his wand handy, he approached the unconscious animal. From the looks of things it was dead to the world, it's breathing slow and deep, its eyes closed. Something at the back of Charlie's mind twitched; a feeling of faint recognition, but before he could pin it down it was lost.

"Can you help it?" Sarah asked quietly, moving beside him. "I know it sounds crazy but it saved my life."

"Maybe."

Preoccupied, Charlie barely heard her. The dog had broken bones, but they could be mended easily enough, and from the sound of the animal's breathing, its lungs were undamaged. Reaching out, he placed a hand on the rough coat and muttered a swift incantation. Nothing happened so there were apparently no internal injuries. "Probably," he amended. "You said it was hit by a car?"

"A bus." Reaching down, Sarah stroked the matted fur of the dog on her bed. "It knocked me out of the way. Maybe it was scared of the traffic or something; it was certainly lucky for me. It hasn't got a collar so I don't think that it can be anyone's pet."

"If it is then it's better off without its owners," Charlie muttered, eying the bones that jutted beneath the shaggy coat. "Give me a minute and I'll have a go at fixing the leg and ribs. It'll need rest though; you're going to be sleeping on the sofa tonight."

"That's alright." Sarah moved beside him and tentatively ran a hand over the dog's head. It whined when Charlie straightened the broken foreleg and cast an Emmendo spell, but other than opening its eyes briefly, remained still. "There's a good boy," she whispered to it, "there's a good dog."

It didn't take the dragon wrangler long to heal the dog's broken ribs, however he was well aware that his expertise was more useful in the dragon-centric area of veterinary care, and this sorry lump of hairy canine was certainly no dragon. Doing as best he could, he sat back and surveyed his handiwork, wishing that he knew of a detangling spell. His mother had used one on Ginny more than once, but he had dismissed it as "girl stuff". Now he regretted not paying better attention, for the shaggy creature might seem a little less pathetic if its coat was clean.

"I've done what I can," he said finally. "Can you pass me my bag? I've got a sleeping draught in there - it'd be better to keep it under until tomorrow; give the Emmendo spell a chance to work."

Sarah nodded and passed him the little bag that Charlie had brought with him. After rummaging around in it for a moment he brought out the bottle of sleeping draught and carefully placed a couple of drops on the dog's tongue. She said nothing about the fact that the bottle was half empty, despite knowing full well that it had been full when she had seen it in his kitchen only days ago, and knew better than to ask.

"Is it a he or a she?" Sarah asked. "I'm just calling it "dog" at the moment." She gave a wry giggle and grinned at her friend. "I mean I'm not going to start calling it "bitch" if it's a girl; that wouldn't exactly be setting a good example to Derek, but it would be nice to know the gender of whoever is mucking up my freshly laundered bed sheets."

Charlie grinned. "You can keep calling it "dog". Don't worry, he's still a step up from a couple of your boyfriends in Hogwarts."

Wrinkling her nose, Sarah shook her head at him, her somewhat rude reply prevented by the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the stairs. Derek's head peered from around the doorway, his eyes curious as he surveyed the scene.

"Chocolate's ready." Stepping into the room, he tentatively touched the dog. "Is it ok?" he asked. "I mean it's not dead is it?" he looked worriedly at the still form of the animal on the bed.

"No, it's not dead, and it'll probably be ok," Sarah said, watching her son as he looked down in fascination at the dog. Anticipating his next question, she added, "and no, we can't keep it."

"But…" Derek cut off his argument when his "uncle" Charlie shook his head at him from his perch on the bed beside his mother.

"It's too big, Dez," he said kindly. "Animals need space, and the city isn't any place for a dog like that." Getting to his feet, he cast a last glance down at his patient and nudged Sarah to the doorway. "Now did someone say something about hot chocolate?" Following them out of the room he flicked his wand to extinguish the candles and tried to ignore the sense that something wasn't quite right when the shape of the dog was lost to the inky darkness.

Sirius slept. The blackness was nothing new - at the back of his mind he acknowledged and despaired of it, but this time it was not unremitting. There were flashes of light, things that made his paws twitch and his breathing quicken. Green light and harsh laughter, coldness that went bone deep. There was a forest and animals running beside him, only they weren't quite animals were they? They were….. The blackness came again, but this time there was a softer light, a softer voice, a kind hand soothing away the pain. The vision was lost as quick and as soon as he had time to register it, and he whimpered with loss.

Sirius slept. But for the first time in eight years, he dreamed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Derek walked up the stairs after saying goodnight to his mother and "uncle" Charlie, before noisily shutting his bedroom door. Waiting for a minute, he made sure that no-one was coming to check if he really had gone to bed, before creeping across the landing and slipping into his mother's room. The dog hadn't moved as far as he could tell, and so he felt safe enough approaching it.

Tentatively he reached out and touched the dog's head. It looked a bit silly on his mum's floral bedcovers, he thought to himself. More like something out a scary story than a pet. But then aunt Flo had a tiny little poodle that would savage your ankles if you weren't careful, and this great big scruffy thing had saved his mum's life. Perhaps all that not judging by appearances or books by their covers was true after all.

The fur was surprisingly silky beneath his fingers, although matted in places and rather tangled. Derek glanced over at his mother's dressing table and debated whether using her hair brush to groom the dog was worth the risk of getting caught, and if he was, how annoyed his mum would be. Just as he had made his mind up and had taken half a step across the room, the dog woke up. Whimpering slightly, it raised its head and looked at him with grey eyes.

"Hey dog," Derek whispered uncertainly.

The animal blinked, gave him a wary glance and rose unsteadily to its feet. Stretching tentatively as though it wasn't sure if all its limbs worked properly, it finally turned and sat down before changing form.

Derek watched dumbstruck as the big dog shape-shifted into a man's form. Sitting on the corner of the bed and attempting to hide his modesty with a pink floral pillow, his abductor of a few hours ago gave him a weak smile.

"Hello, again."

"MUM!" Reacting swiftly if not wisely, Derek yelled for his mother and grabbed for the first weapon at hand. Brandishing a perfume atomiser at Sirius, he mentally kicked himself for leaving his wand downstairs. "Don't move," he said with a decent attempt at bravado. "Don't move or I'll…"

"Spray me with perfume?" The man looked edgy but also slightly amused. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

His words were interrupted by Charlie Weasley charging through the door and almost knocking it off its hinges, Sarah following closely behind. Dodging an Impedimentia spell, Sirius put up his hands.

"I mean you no harm!" he said forcefully. " I just…" his eyes widened when they took in the sight of the red-haired and extremely irate man in front of him. "Charlie?" He didn't get to complete his sentence. Sarah Osaka's stunning spell hit him full on the chest and sent him crashing back onto the bed that he had been sleeping on only moments before.

Panting slightly, Sarah grabbed her son and shoved him behind her. "Derek, downstairs. Now." She muttered, not moving her gaze from the man on her bed, nor lowering her wand.

Derek did as he was told. Scampering past his mother, he raced down the stairs two at a time in search of his wand. He new full well that his mum meant for him to get out the way of trouble, but whatever was happening here was scary and strange, and no way was he going to leave his mum to face it alone - not after what had happened to his father.

* * *

"Charlie?" Sarah chanced a nervous glance at her friend before returning it to the very tall, very naked and very unconscious man sprawled on her bed. "Do you know this er…" _Man, dog, man-dog, werewolf ? _"person?" she asked weakly.

From the corner of her eye she saw Charlie lower his wand and relaxed a little, although his appearance did little to appease her state of mind. His usually ruddy complexion was milk-white, his freckles standing out in sharp relief against his pallor. Blinking somewhat dazedly, he glanced at her briefly before returning his gaze to the man on the bed.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." As an attempt at humour it was a bit pathetic, so Sarah was slightly surprised when Charlie gave an almost hysterical snort of laughter. Lifting his wand, he directed a litany of spells towards the unconscious man. When none of them seemed to have any effect he gestured her forward rather wildly.

"Polyjuice, it's got to be that. I've tried _Revealto - _do know anything else?"

"What?" Sarah wasn't sure what was stranger - a dog turning into a man on her bed of all places, or her usually unflappable friend descending into outright panic. Resisting the urge to turn around (_it would be just her luck to find a white rabbit tapping a pocket watch and gesturing towards a rabbit hole), _she tried to think logically. "you think he's used polyjuice?" Sarah looked again at the unconscious man. She didn't know him, and his was a face that wouldn't easily be forgotten. She did, however remember him racing away from the Ministry of Magic. Dark lashes rested upon high cheekbones, a full mouth partially obscured by a lock of long dark hair would have made him almost pretty were it not for the strong line of his jaw and the grooves etched into his forehead and around his mouth. There were scars on the sleek skin of his chest; mementos of a hard life, she thought, but dragging her eyes away before she peeked any further, Sarah returned her attention to Charlie.

"You know the wards I have on this house; anyone polyjuiced would have grandma's portrait screaming blue murder." Huffing out a sigh of confused irritation, she flicked her wand at the door, closing and effectively sealing it. Derek would be charging up the stairs any moment now despite her orders, and she wouldn't put him at risk. "Since I'm pretty sure that the dog… well not dog any more, is the man who held my son hostage a few hours ago, and he seems to know who you are, then I'd quite like an explanation please."

"I don't have one." Charlie had regained a little of his colour, but although he tried to meet Sarah's eyes, he kept glancing back towards the bed. "You said he held Dez hostage?"

"Well yes." Sarah bit her lip. "Sort of. But then apparently he was the dog that got hit by a bus saving me." Reaching out, she took one of Charlie's calloused hands. She hadn't seen him this upset since he had lost his brother in the Great War. "What's going on?"

He squeezed her hand briefly before letting it go. Walking over to the bed he unfolded the blanket that lay at the foot of the bed and covered the man upon it.

"This is Sirius Black, Sarah," he said quietly. "This is Harry Potter's godfather."

Sarah blinked in disbelief. Everyone knew Harry Potter's story; even those that didn't read The Daily Prophet or The Quibbler couldn't miss the dozen or so unauthorized biographies that had been churned out as soon as Voldemort had been defeated. She herself owned one by a fairly reputable author, deciding that Derek should know something of the boy who had changed the fate of the magical world. Sirius Black was a well known name and one spoken with reverence in general. He was one of the few wizards to be awarded The Order Of Merlin award, but, she realised, and it was a big "but", it had been awarded posthumously. Sirius Black had died eleven years ago.

"Isn't he…?" she found herself mesmerized by the rise and fall of Sirius's chest .

"Yeah." Charlie didn't bother waiting for her to elaborate. "So what's he doing here?"

**A/N: feedback good or bad is useful if you are so inclined to give it :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me. Oh, and should have said it earlier; I'm ignoring the epilogue to The Deathly Hallows. None of the pairings in the book will change, but the timelines will be a bit "off".**

Charging up the stairs, Derek Oskaka slid to a halt before his mum's bedroom door. Turning the door knob fruitlessly, he inwardly wailed with frustration. Either his mum or Charlie had sealed the door shut behind them. They were trapped with that nutter from the ministry of magic, and he was stuck outside completely helpless. Glancing down at his wand, he considered the options.

He could go for help, although usually his first thought would have been to ask Charlie, and he was in there already.

He could try a spell… Alohomora probably wouldn't work - the door was sealed magically, not by a simple lock, but there must be something else; even if using magic would most likely get him kicked out of Hogwarts before he'd even completed the first year. He was saved having to make a decision by the door opening.

"Put the wand down, Dez," Sarah said tiredly, gesturing for him to enter the room. Hugging him briefly, she let him take a small step towards the man sprawled on the bed. Derek took a moment to study the unconscious figure, making sure that his wand remained firmly in his hand, before looking at Charlie. What he saw did not reassure him.

"What do you know about Harry Potter?" his godfather asked, his voice thin and strained, a million miles from his usual good humoured rumble.

Derek blinked. First the mad bloke and now Charlie; since when was he the foremost authority on The Boy Who Lived?

"He saved the wizarding world," he said slowly. "He killed Voldemort."

"That he did." Charlie gave a small smile. "Do you remember the story of his godfather?"

"Sillymus Black? Yeah. I think so. He went to Azkaban didn't he?" Well aware that his mother was fidgeting anxiously behind him, and that he was still none the wiser as to what was going on, Derek glared at the red-haired man. "What's going on?"

"That's him." Charlie gestured to the man on the bed. "That's Sirius Black."

Charlie looked at the unconscious figure for several seconds. His immediate response of _wow! Cool! _swiftly being replaced by a niggling doubt. Looking over to his mum, she anticipated his question.

"Yeah, Dez. He's supposed to be dead."

"When you found…met…Sirius, what happened?" Charlie asked. Some of the colour had returned to his face, and he looked a little more like the "uncle" he knew, so Derek repeated his story. Perhaps the part about demolishing half the holding room at the ministry was glossed over a little, and the part where he lost his wand within two milliseconds edited slightly, but as a whole he spoke truthfully, right up until when he had panicked when the dog had changed form.

"He seemed… friendly." Derek said after a pause. "I know I yelled and got a bit, well…"

"Overexcited?" Charlie suggested.

"Yeah, that." Derek looked a bit sheepish. "He didn't try and hurt me or anything, but then you and mum were there and mum zapped him." His lips twitched as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a grin. "That was _brilliant."_

"It was no such thing, Derek Appollo Osaka," Sarah said firmly, although she had to keep from smiling when she caught Charlie's eyes. "Remember that talk we had about violence being only the last resort?"

"Yeah." Derek shrugged and looked over to Sirius. "You also said that people don't come back from the dead, so what's _he_ doing here?"

"Perhaps it's time that we found out." Flipping his wand in his hand, Charlie walked over to the man on the bed and touched his chest with the tip. _Rennervate, _he whispered, and for the third time in one afternoon Sirius Black awoke to find himself completely clueless as to what was going on.

* * *

"Charlie?" Sirius sat up slowly and grabbed the blanket that had been covering him before it slipped off his lap. His ribs protested the movement, but he bit back the wince of pain. The… _no not a boy, not any more_, who stood before him was unmistakably Charlie Weasley - from the freckles on his nose to the colour of his hair, but the last time he had seen him he had been a young man in his early twenties. The man who stood before him was at least ten years older, broad shouldered, the previously clear hazel eyes shadowed and bracketed with a faint web of wrinkles. Beside him stood the woman he had rescued. Her dark eyes were huge as they watched him, her petite figure placed in front of the boy who had panicked when he had revealed himself and now looked at him with baffled curiosity.

"Yeah." Charlie approached him first, sitting on the bed and offering his hand. "Gotta say it, this is kind of an unexpected surprise, Sirius."

Sirius took the proffered hand and shook it formally, well aware of how ridiculous the situation was. The last time he had seen Charlie had been at an Order Of The Phoenix meeting. Charlie had made a (literally) flying visit to see his family and let the Order know what was happening with the suspected Voldemort supporters in Romania. The information hadn't been particularly useful, but the bottle of Dragon's breath vodka he'd brought had been extremely potent . Shoving away the image of a naked Mad-Eye Moody who had lost at strip-snap, Sirius gave a faint grin.

"Typical Weasley, masters of the understatement. Not that I'm complaining about waking up in a pretty lady's bedroom," he flashed a grin at Sarah, "but usually I like to know how I got there and what happened inbetween. Harry's alright isn't he?" the words came out in a rush. "There was a statue of him…"

"Harry's fine. Safe." Charlie ignored the statue comment; things were weird enough as it was. "What _do _you remember?" he asked cautiously.

Suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was naked underneath the floral printed sheet that was pooled at his waist and of three pairs of eyes watching him as though he might transfigure into Voldemort at any moment, Sirius took a few moments before answering.  
"I was at the Ministry of Magic. Harry had been led into a trap - most of The Order were there as well as Voldemort's little welcoming committee. My bitch of a cousin whacked me with some sort of spell and I woke up in what looked like the lost and found room of wizarding London." Sirius caught the glance that Charlie shot Sarah, and narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. And then I took the boy hostage," he gave Derek a one shouldered shrug of apology, "got hit by a bus, woke up and promptly got stunned into oblivion again. I'm the one who should be asking questions here - what in the name of Merlin's balls is going on? Is there a Floo here?" he demanded. "If I could just speak to Remus or Dumbledore, they'll know what's going on.

"Bellatrix didn't "whack you with a spell", Sirius." Charlie's words were quiet and well controlled. His.. Friend wasn't quite the right word given that they didn't know each other that well - perhaps brother in arms? Obviously had no idea what had happened to him, nor what had happened in the years after his death. _Dumbledore, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Remus… Oh shit this was going to be hard._

Turning to Sarah he gestured with a nod of his head that she should go, and to her credit she took the hint without making a fuss. Taking Derek's hand she led him from the room, touching Charlie's arm briefly as she passed in a silent gesture of solidarity. With a deep breath he looked at the pale, gaunt face of the man in front of him.

"Bellatrix killed you. You've been dead for eleven years."

* * *

Sarah wasn't a good sleeper at the best of times, at least not in the ten years since her husband's death, but tonight it would have taken a bludger to the head to knock her out. Derek was asleep; the soft, rhythmic snoring from the room next door comforting and slightly comical. Charlie had gone home and Sirius was asleep on the sofa in the lounge.

Kicking the duvet from her legs, at once too warm and too cold, she buried her head into the pillow. She was safe enough: even if Charlie hadn't vouched for him, she would have let Sirius stay. The pain in his eyes when he had eventually followed his friend down the stairs was all too familiar. Grief she knew well enough, and the quiet apology he had made to both her and Derek had satisfied any misgivings she might have had about giving him somewhere to sleep for the night. Tomorrow they would track down Harry Potter - Harry Potter! And would try and make some sense out of this ridiculous situation, but for now it was best for them all to sit tight and wait until Charlie had contacted his old friends.

_Sod it. _Scrambling out of bed, Sarah grabbed the dressing gown that hung on the back of her bedroom door and slipped it on. Although the windows in her little house were small it was a full moon, and she had no need of light from the wand that she slipped into her pocket automatically. Creeping down the stairs, she paused. If Sirius was asleep then she ran the risk of waking him. If he was awake then she'd have to speak to him. _What are you doing?_ she asked herself. _This is totally stupid._

Her subconscious was saved the effort of answering by a sudden breeze that raised goosebumps on her legs and made her tuck her dressing gown more tightly around her.

Padding softly into the lounge, she noted the blankets piled messily at the end of the sofa, it's occupant obviously elsewhere. Moonlight striped the dark kitchen and etched a silver frame to the open doorway, but it was a couple of moments before Sarah found the courage to traverse the room and peer out into the darkness.

Sirius was sitting on the lip of the porch, bare feet resting on the dark grass of her overgrown lawn. Forearms resting upon his knees, he gazed seemingly sightlessly into the night, oblivious or unwilling to acknowledge her presence. Sarah stood undecided for a full minute. Resting her shoulder against the door frame and unsure whether to go outside would be seen as a comfort or an intrusion, she finally made up her mind and stepped outside.

"Full Moon", she said quietly before sitting down beside him. "They say it's lucky for some."

He gave a low, rasping laugh. "Not for everyone."

There wasn't much of an answer to that; obviously the comment had a meaning to him that she didn't understand, and from the tone of Sirius's voice it didn't invite further enquiry. Stretching out her toes, Sarah let the cool grass tickle her feet and tried to ignore the heat emanating from the man beside her. She'd managed to find a pair of sweat pants for Sirius to sleep in; they had belonged to her husband and were a bit short, but it was better than nothing. A suitably sized T-shirt had eluded her however, and so most of him was clad in nothing but moonlight and shadow. It had been a long time since she had been in such close to a semi naked man who wasn't related by bonds of blood or friendship, and Sarah found herself uncharacteristically awkward. They sat in silence for a few moments. The night was cool but not chilly, the sky clear save for a few clouds that scudded past quickly as though keen to catch a glimpse of the newly resurrected Sirius Black.

"Derek seems like a good kid."

Sarah smiled and nodded her head, keeping her gaze fixed on the ladybird that was crawling towards her toe.

"He is."

"How long since he lost his dad?"

She froze at that. The ladybird crawled over her toe and back into the grass, and Sirius had opened his mouth to apologize before she answered.

"Ten years ago next month."

"I'm sorry." Sirius glanced at the woman sat beside him and resisted the urge to take her hand. She looked so sad and small huddled up in her tatty dressing gown. "What happened"

"Voldemort." She made no attempt to elaborate, but he was surprised when she tentatively put her hand upon his arm. "It was long ago. But what about you? This must all be so strange."

He shrugged and fixed his gaze back into the darkness.

"I don't know what I feel," he said quietly. "This might all be a dream - it certainly feels like one."

Sarah tucked her knees up to her chest. Fiddling with a stray thread on her hem, she glanced at Sirius.

"Your godson is safe - a hero even. Voldemort is dead; you have a chance to start again. " Rummaging in her pocket, she retrieved her wand and summoned a book from the shelf in the hallway. The Incredible Life of The Boy Who Did Not Die soared into her hand, and flicking through the pages swiftly, Sarah opened the book to show a photo of a very embarrassed looking Harry Potter being given a medal. Behind him posters of a young Sirius Black fluttered almost in time with the magical flashbulbs of the cameras pointed at his godson. "Look, you've even been awarded The Order of Merlin."

A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Bet that pissed off that Umbridge bitch." Backtracking, he stifled a laugh. "Sorry. Bad language in front of a lady. Moony would have my…"

The good humour was extinguished as quickly as it had kindled. "Do you mind if I borrow this?" he asked more quietly, gesturing to the book.

"Be my guest." Sarah got to her feet and gave Sirius a small smile: she didn't need legilimency to know that he was curious to read about the years that he had lost, and that he would be happier doing it alone. "I'm off to bed. If you are hungry or thirsty then you know where the kitchen is. There's extra blankets in the chest by the sofa."

"Thank-you." Sirius gave her a swift, slightly amused grin. "I think I'll survive until morning."

"Yes, well.." Sarah blushed a little, remembering that she'd given him the exact same instructions at least twice that evening. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good-night Sarah." Following her indoors, Sirius closed the door behind them and watched as the petite woman climbed the stairs. Shimmying around the creaky steps so as not to wake her son, Sarah was almost as pretty from the rear as the front, he was shocked to find himself thinking. Putting the errant thought down to post-traumatic shock, he flopped back down onto the sofa and opened the book she had given to him. Eleven years of lost history condensed into four hundred and twenty pages written by, he flipped the cover over, someone called Simone Silver-quill. Brilliant. Settling down, he whispered a brief "_on" _to the lamp beside him and turned the first page.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Sirius dozed off half-way through The Incredible Life of The Boy Who Did Not Die. Eager though he was to finish it, his body was tired and achy, and despite his dislike for the dark, he succumbed to it without much of a struggle. He awoke to find the first tentative light of morning peeking around the drawn curtains, catching the dust motes and making everything seem more dream-like than ever. The crick in his back was no dream however, nor was the book that slid off his chest and dropped onto the carpet with a muffled "flop". Harry Potter looked at him with a rather startled expression from the cover, and feeling a peculiar mix of longing and regret, Sirius picked the book up and put it on the side table by the couch. He was eager to read more, but more pressing matters had him getting to his feet and padding across the lounge. At one end of the end of the room a staircase curved up to the upper level, at the other a wide archway led to the kitchen. Sirius made his way towards the shadowy room. Although he was uncomfortably in need of relieving himself, he didn't think that either Sarah or Derek would appreciate him opening their bedroom doors by mistake whilst searching for a loo.

The kitchen was dimly lit by the soft dawn light; gilding the metal fridge and the pristine work surfaces and disguising the fact that everything was worn and well used. Glancing around briefly, Sirius's eyes rested upon a small door situated to the left of the corridor leading to the back door. After stepping over a muddle of Wellington boots and a partially deflated football, he pushed open the door and realised with relief that he had in fact found a bathroom. Not having a wand, and anticipating having to use the loo in the dark, he was surprised to find a string hanging by the door and a bare light bulb hanging forlornly from the ceiling. Pulling the string, the small room blazed into almost too bright light, and it wasn't until he had relieved himself, flushed the toilet and found the sink, that Sirius's eyes adjusted.

He almost wished that they hadn't. If it had been magical lighting and he had had his wand, then he would have dimmed it as soon as he caught his reflection in the mirror on the wall. He looked… Well he looked like he had when he had escaped Azkaban, albeit less emaciated. Long, black hair fell in rats tails to his shoulders, several days beard growth darkened his jaw, and coupled with the scars marking his naked torso, he looked every inch the degenerate killer the Ministry of Magic accused him of being. Had_ accused him of being_, he mentally corrected. Apparently he was a war hero now. C_ould you be a war hero if you hadn't actually died fighting in a proper war? _he wondered. Splashing his face with water, he welcomed the cold shock on his skin. He had to find Harry, he had to work out how or why he was here, and first and foremost he needed to read the end of that bloody book so that he didn't feel like someone trapped in one of the "Spear Gravity: Wizard Astronaut Explorer" comics he had read when he was a child. Opening the door and switching off the light - _and what was that all about? The house seemed to be filled with muggle appliances - indeed if it were not for the occasional moving portrait or Sarah's wand, he might have mistaken it for any other muggle abode. _Shoving his questions to the back of his mind, Sirius made his way back to the couch and picked up the book. Within minutes any niggling questions and doubts were forgotten as he absorbed himself in the history of a world that he had been newly awakened to.

_

* * *

_

Derek sat at the head of the stairs for what seemed to be a very long time. He had slept fitfully, worry and concern for his mother meaning that whatever sleep he did get was filled with strange dreams and a nagging feeling of dread that meant he woke before getting any true rest. Eventually becoming too restless to stay still, he had slid out of bed and crept out his room onto the landing. The faint light through the balustrades of the stairway gave him a good view of the lounge below, and trying to keep as quiet as possible, he watched as the big man slumped on the couch turned page after page of the book in his hands.

He recognized the book - after all it was one of his favourites. When he was younger he and his cousins had often played "Harry Potter and Voldemort". He had always been Neville Longbottom which he didn't really mind - Neville was cool and had killed that massive snake. Cousin Alfred hadn't been so keen on playing Hermione Granger though, he recollected, although that was the pennance for having such curly brown hair he supposed. But childish games aside, the stories had never really seemed real. True, his dad had been killed by Voldemort's supporters, and they celebrated Freedom Day each year, but it was all a bit vague and unreal. The world he lived in was safe and orderly - he had tried to imagine being afraid for his life just because he was half muggle born and couldn't. If anything it was the purebloods in his classes that got teased, although he couldn't really summon much sympathy for Saffron Vulpine when the kids in his class called her a stuck-up inbred. She had a way of looking down her nose that made most people itch to hex her.

Things become an awfully lot more real when characters in your history books came to life though… With a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool morning air, Derek had a sudden worrying thought. If Sirius had come back from the dead then what if Voldemort had too? What if his father was out there somewhere sleeping on some strange person's couch and looking for him and his mum? Glancing back at his mother's closed bedroom door, Derek made his mind up. He was the man of the house, and although he hadn't meant to, it was he who had brought Sirius Black into their home. If he had put his mum in danger then he had to find out, and if it meant talking to the rather intimidating man downstairs then so be it.

* * *

"I won't bite you." Sirius's voice was mild and he did not look up from the book that he had started re-reading, but his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. He'd watched Derek hover uncertainly at the foot of the stairs for at least five minutes, and while it was rather amusing, it was probably best to talk to the lad before he lost his nerve and bolted back upstairs again. From the corner of his eye he watched Derek jump guiltily, before lifting his head and walking forwards with a bravado that would have perhaps been a bit more effective if he hadn't been wearing a pair of oversized pyjamas decorated in the colours of Puddlemere United quidditch team. Tripping over the foot of his pyjama bottoms, Derek righted himself with dignity before sitting down in a chair opposite the couch and staring at the man upon it. _Brave lad, _Sirius thought to himself with amusement and an affection that surprised him.

"Mr Black." Derek sat up straight in the chair, the tips of his toes just barely touching the carpet. "I wanted to ask you some questions."

"By all means do so." Sirius kept his voice level and respectful, although the image of what his friends would have made of their Padfoot being interrogated by an eleven year old almost made him smile. The remembrance that he didn't actually _have_ any friends - at least none living, sobered him a little, and he returned his attention to the child.

Derek fidgeted with the hem of his pyjama shirt, realised what he was doing and sat on his hands. Sirius might be being polite, but he was still bloody big with muscles in places that Derek didn't think people had muscles. Looking defiantly into the grey eyes, he continued.

"How-did-you-get-here-and-is-Voldemort-here-and-is-anyone-else-here-too." The words came out in a jumbled rush that left both of them blinking.

"Er, wanna slow that down a bit Derek?" Sirius asked.

"You." A bit flushed with embarrassment, Derek glared at the dark haired man. "How come you're here? How'd you do it? And if you're here then is Voldemort back too?"

Sirius winced a bit at the mention of Voldemort's name and inwardly wondered at the change in the world. When he was young none but the very brave or foolhardy dared call the dark lord by name. Thinking hard, he watched Derek's eyes narrow and settled on the truth.

"I don't know how I came to be here," he said honestly. "I wish that I did. The last thing I remember outside being found by you at the Ministry.." He saw Derek look slightly guilty and inwardly agreed - _least said about that the better_- "was being killed by my cousin."

"Bellatrix TheStrange?"

"Yeah, that's the one." _Pretty good description of old Bella as it goes, _Sirius thought with twisted amusement. "As for Voldemort coming back.. I don't see how he could have done. I fell behind the veil, he was defeated in combat. All his hor.. Horri…" The correct word escaped him and he shrugged. "All those things he put his soul into were destroyed and so was his body. I don't think there's anything left _to _come back."

"But what about other people? People that Voldemort killed? Maybe when you came back they came back too."

Sirius saw the gleam in Derek's eyes, the way his body trembled with eagerness, and felt his heart sink. Hope was a terrible, beautiful thing, but he couldn't see how he could reassure the boy. It was obvious that Derek was hoping that his father had returned, but despite wishing wholeheartedly that it could be true, all evidence spoke the opposite.

"Derek," Sirius said quietly, "if your father had returned, if anyone killed by Voldemort had returned, don't you think that they would have been found with me?"

The boy took a moment to process that information before shaking his head. His eyes were a little duller, but his chin was still stubbornly set.

"He, they, might have come back somewhere else," he said almost confidently. "Or got lost."

Watching as Derek seemed to diminish as his enthusiasm did, Sirius felt a sudden urge to cross the distance between them and offer comfort.

"I might be wrong, Derek," he said with a ragged sigh. "Merlin knows what's going on here, I certainly don't."

Derek was silent for a long time before he spoke. "You're not wrong." The dark haired boy back handed the tears from his eyes before glaring at the older man as though daring him to say something. "You said that Voldemort can't come back because there's nothing left of him. Well there's nothing left of my dad either. Death Eaters blew him up when he was trying to smuggle muggle borns over to Canada. There's a forest there now. One of the trees has a plaque with his name on it."

"I'm sorry." Sirius pretended not to notice when the boy wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He sounds like a very brave man."

Derek shrugged. "Yeah. He got a medal and stuff later on, you know when the war was over, even though he was a muggle."

"He was a muggle?"

Frowning slightly at the older man's look of surprise, Derek shrugged. "Yeah, so what? Have you got a problem with muggles? 'cause if so then mum's not going to like you staying here." The words were defensive, and Sirius put his hands up in attempt at placation.

"No. No, I have no trouble with muggles, or muggle born wizards for that matter." Running a hand through his shaggy hair he gave a short bark of a laugh. "Believe me, Derek I like your world much better than the one that I grew up in. When I grew up associating with muggles was very much frowned upon, especially if you were a pure blood wizard."

Derek gave a derisory snort. "Yeah, well that's cause they all married their sisters and stuff. Their brains got all messed up." Seeing Sirius's eyes widen in shock and remembering that Sirius was in fact Sirius Black. Black as being one of the oldest wizarding families. Black as being one of the oldest _pureblooded _wizarding families, Derek hurriedly thought of some way of making his comment less insulting. He was saved the trouble by the low rumble of Sirius's stomach.

For a moment both of them looked at each other before stifling their laughter.

"Are you hungry?" Derek asked. Then with a grin he shook his head. "Okay don't answer that. Is eggs and toast alright?"

"Eggs are fine," Sirius replied, getting to his feet and rolling his shoulders. "As long as you don't mind sharing your food with an inbred pureblood."

For a moment Derek wasn't sure whether he was joking or not, but catching the amusement in the grey eyes he returned the smile.

"I can make an exception, just this once." Trotting over to the kitchen he looked over his shoulder to check that Sirius was following. "Come on, mum'll be up soon. If you help me make breakfast she might not be so mad at you for getting blood all over her bed."

_Sarah. _Sirius gave an involuntary glance at the staircase behind him. It would probably take a lot more that eggs on toast to make up for the chaos he had brought into her life, but he could not resist a smile at the thought of seeing her again. Relieving Derek of the heavy frying pan he was unsuccessfully trying to place on the oven hob, he set about making breakfast.

* * *

Sarah awoke to find her duvet wrapped around her legs and the delicious smell of fried breakfast tantalising her senses. Yawning widely, she gave a languorous stretch before last night's events brought her sharply into focus. Sirius. Charlie… Derek! Derek wasn't allowed to use the stove - he'd promised not to. So who was? What if Sirius Black had killed him? What if it wasn't breakfast but the house on fire, or Sirius had killed Derek and was eating him….. Ok, she tried to reason, the last theory wasn't very likely, but half asleep and half panicked, Sarah grabbed her wand and charged down the stairs.

"Hi mum," her son gave her a cheery wave with the spatula he was holding. "D'you want one egg or two?" Behind him Sirius Black flipped several rashers of bacon onto three plates, giving her a smile that looked at once tentatively friendly and slightly embarrassed.

"Two," Sarah said weakly, sitting down hard on the couch. The pair of them had obviously been up some time; a pitcher of orange juice sat in the middle of the small table in the kitchen and a stack of toast was stacked neatly on a plate next to the butter dish. Regaining her equilibrium somewhat, Sarah approached her son. "Derek, I thought that we agreed that you wouldn't cook when I wasn't around to watch you," she said disapprovingly. "It isn't safe."

Her son frowned and poked at an egg that was slowly becoming opaque in the frying pan.

"No you didn't," he corrected. "You said I couldn't use the hob or the oven without adult supervision, and I'm not. Sirius is an adult and he's supervising me."

_Right. _Glancing over at the broad back tapering down to a narrow waist and a bum that looked even more edible than the breakfast being served up, Sarah looked away hurriedly.

"Alright," she said, inwardly wincing at the higher than normal pitch of her voice. "Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"Sit down and relax?" Sirius turned apologetic grey eyes to her brown. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be presumptuous. We were hungry. _I _was hungry, I hope you don't mind."

He looked so guilty that Sarah forgot any objections that she might have had.

"It's alright," she said sincerely. "Anyway, I can't remember the last time anyone made me breakfast , thank you."

He returned her smile, but when their eyes met there was something more than the heat of the kitchen that caused her cheeks to burn, and it was with a disappointed kind of relief that her attention was caught by the post owl that came swooping through the window.

* * *

Sirius carefully dished out bacon and eggs onto the toast that Derek had buttered, giving the grill a baleful look as he did so. How muggles coped with these dangerous contraptions he would never know - they seemed deliberately designed make cooking as difficult as possible and cause maximum damage to human skin while doing so. Surreptitiously scraping the worst of the burnt bits off the toast, he let his eyes stray over to Sarah. She was sat at the table seemingly absorbed in the paper - The Daily Prophet - at least some things hadn't changed, he thought. Her dark hair was all over the place, her eyes smudged with shadows, but when she looked up and smiled at him he smiled back without thinking about it. Derek took a plate from him, and he followed the boy, placing a loaded plate before Sarah before sitting down before his own breakfast. She gave him a brief, sweet smile before picking up her knife and fork, and for a while there was silence while they tucked in to the food. When they were done, Derek took the dishes to the sink, and Sirius took the opportunity to speak to his mother.

"Did you…"

"I wondered.."

They both spoke at once. Laughing, any tension between them gone, Sarah gestured for him to continue.

"I wondered if you had a razor I could borrow," Sirius said, running a hand over his stubbly jaw. "Or for that matter some scissors." Giving the woman before him a rueful smile, he indicated his shaggy hair. "If I'm to meet my godson then I'd rather not have him running away in horror before I get to say hello."

"yes, well, a bit of a clean up probably wouldn't hurt," Sarah said, pretending to study him. "I'll tell you what, go and have a shower - upstairs, first left, towels are on the rack by the sink. There's a razor and shaving foam in the cupboard. It's Charlie's but I don't suppose he'll mind you borrowing it."

_Charlie's? _Suddenly feeling extremely awkward, Sirius shifted a little in his chair.

"Are you sure? I didn't realise that you and Charlie were together."

"Together?" Realisation dawned and Sarah shook her head. "Charlie's my best friend and Derek's godfather, he sometimes stays over, but not, you know, like _that."_

"Oh." A little surprised at how relieved he was at the information, Sirius got up and headed upstairs.

"Give me a yell when you're finished," Sarah called after him. "I'll cut your hair if you like. I'm not great at pruning spells but Derek hasn't complained yet."

Sirius caught Derek giving him a frantic shake of his head in warning from the kitchen, but basic politeness had him answering that he would be most grateful for the favour. Climbing the stairs and shutting the bathroom door behind him, he turned the shower on, and after shedding the ill-fitting pyjama bottoms climbed into the bath tub. The warm water cascading over his skin was the closest thing to heaven he had felt in a long time, and resting his head against the cold tiles, he let the tension and the fear of the last few days wash away with the grime.

* * *

Wand in one hand, a bundle of clothing bundled under her arm, Sarah Osaka dithered outside her bathroom door. The sound of running water had stopped a couple of minutes ago, but she felt herself strangely shy of knocking on the door. Sirius Black, war hero, fugitive, victim of what, she thought with a guilty sense of pride, was one of her more effective stunning spells, was probably waiting for her. And yet she found herself a little shy of actually approaching him. She had dressed almost deliberately unattractively: baggy T-shirt and old jeans in an attempt to remind herself of what was real. She was a good mother, she had been a good wife. Heck she had even been a good employee until the letter that had arrived that morning informing her that she was on a weeks suspension pending further investigation. _Get a grip, Sarah, _she told herself fiercely. Sure Sirius was easy on the eyes, and easy to talk to, but acting like a teenager with a crush was a bit ridiculous, especially when she had an eleven year old son downstairs. _Perhaps it was the menopause, _she thought. _Could you get the menopause when you were thirty two years old? _Squaring her shoulders, she knocked sharply on the door and turned the door knob when Sirius told her to enter.

_Oh._

Sirius was dressed in nothing but a towel draped around his hips. Draped _low _around his hips. Dragging her eyes upwards, cheeks flushing, Sarah took in the pale expanse of taut abdominal muscles, the wide sweep of his shoulders and broad chest. Reluctantly meeting his eyes she gave him a faint smile. Newly shaven he looked younger, and despite the soggy hair plastered to his cheeks and neck, almost ridiculously handsome. He looked at her a bit nervously.

"Sorry about the shower." He nodded towards the bathtub. A thin film of grime covered the bottom and was splattered on the tiles by the shower attachment.

Sarah smiled. "Believe me, you should see it after Derek comes home after football practice." With a quick _scourgify_ spell the dirt vanished, and feeling a little more in control, she shoved the pile of towels off the stool in the corner and dragged it into the centre of the room. "Sit," she said mischievously.

"Are you going to ask me to roll over next?" Sirius grumbled before complying.

"I was thinking more of "fetch"", Sarah said casting a quick untangling spell on his shaggy locks. "You'd be really useful at parties. You know, "Fetch me another drink" or "fetch so and so's coat because it's really time that they were leaving."

"Don't they have house elves for that?" Wincing as Sarah dragged a wide toothed comb through his hair, he smiled when she laughed.

"True, but you can't pet house elves. Or perhaps you can… No-one I know keeps one, I'll have to ask David at the department of elven relations."

"Believe me, you don't want to try," Sirius said bitterly. "Some of them are devious little bastards"

"You sound like you speak from experience", Sarah said quietly.

"It was a long time ago, apparently." Sirius retorted. From the sudden tension in his shoulders, Sarah took the comment as a cue to change the subject.

Carefully muttering a pruning spell, she sheared Sirius's black hair lock by lock so that it fell a little below his jaw line. The spell was actually designed to trim shrubbery, but what Sirius didn't know wouldn't hurt him she reasoned. Anyway it had only gone wrong that one time, and Derek had forgiven her. Eventually. Shifting around the quiet man, she leant close to him, trimming the fringe of hair that obscured his eyes. Keeping her breathing carefully even, her breath caught when his hand skimmed up the curve of her ribs, just barely brushing the underside of her breast. Glancing down in shocked surprise, she watched as he flicked away the clump of hair that had attached itself to her T-shirt.

"Thanks." Her voice sounded strange in her throat. He looked at her and didn't say anything, but he took longer than he should have done to remove his hand, and his eyes were dark with something much more than casual friendship when she dared meet them.

"I brought you some clothes," Sarah said quickly, finishing the haircut as quickly as she could without just chopping half Sirius's hair off. "They would have been a bit small but I put a lengthening charm on them so they might fit but if they don't then I can change them, or I suppose…" The words tumbled out of her mouth in a panicky attempt to fill the silence, but she fell silent when Sirius placed a big hand upon her forearm.

"Sarah," he said quietly. "It's alright."

She might have answered, but the moment was broken by a pounding on the door.

"Mum!" Derek's voice was unmistakable. "Charlie's here and he's brought visitors!"

Sarah withdrew from Sirius's touch and moved towards the door.

"Tell Charlie we'll be with him in a minute," she called out. The latter part of her son's announcement finally registered and she felt the first tendrils of unease grip her stomach. "Who exactly has Charlie brought with him?" she asked warily.

"Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley." Even muffled by the door, Derek's voice was shrill with excitement. "Come on quick, and wear something nice, not your pyjamas."

"Alright," Sarah answered automatically. "Put the kettle on and we'll be right down."

Derek's muffled "OK" was barely audible as he scampered down the stairs, and blinking at her reflection in the mirror Sarah barely stifled a laugh. As a start to the morning this was certainly one of the strangest.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sorry it's taken so long to update. Hope this chapter isn't too choppy or boring - not much really happens, but I wanted to "settle the characters in a bit before the action begins. Feedback is appreciated :)

A couple of British terms that I'm not sure always translate to fellow fans overseas:

Lounge: living/sitting room

Wellington boots ( or wellies) : sturdy rubber boots that are great for stomping in muddy puddles :) I think in America they are called gum boots, but let me know if I'm wrong - I'm terrible with American slang words (I thought grits were something you put on roads when it was really icy...)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Hurriedly discarding the grubby T-shirt and pulling on a red polo neck that she saved for special occasions - it wasn't as though you had two of the golden trio in your lounge everyday after all- Sarah was only a few seconds behind Sirius as he bounded down the stairs.

"Sirius! Oh my god!" The young woman standing in Sarah's lounge clapped her hand over her mouth, took two steps forward as though to hug the man in front of her and then retreated, a look of total bafflement in her big brown eyes. The lanky red-head beside her grabbed her arm and raised his wand warily.

_Ron Weasley,_ Sarah thought. She'd met him a couple of times when she'd been over at Charlie's and had met Hermione Granger once, but it was still a bit surreal to see them both in her living room. Edging around them and standing next to Derek, she was relieved when Charlie patted his brother on the shoulder.

It's ok," Charlie said quietly. "It's not polyjuice, or any sort of spell that I can think of."

Ignoring the two redheads, and narrowing her eyes, Hermione raised her wand, chanting a litany of spells faster than Sarah could decipher, and flinching at the barrage of bright light that bounced off him, Sirius cringed backwards until she stopped.

"Bloody hell Hermione, have you turned into Bellatrix or something?" Sirius smacked at a couple of glowing embers where the spells had scorched his t-shirt. "Why don't you Avada Kedavra me while you're at it?"

"Sorry." The pretty brunette looked genuinely apologetic. "It's best to be sure, and well, I'm sure Charlie did everything, and.."

"Just say it Hermione," Ron said with a touch of amusement. "You're way better at revelio spells than we are."

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. "I didn't say..." Frowning, she looked again at Sirius before bounding forward and throwing her arms around him.

"Oww." Carefully disintangling himself from the young witch, Sirius rubbed his still sore ribs. "Nice to see you too."

"Don't expect a hug," Ronald Weasley warned. "And get your hands off my missus".

Sarah watched with amusement as Hermione batted her fiancee on the shoulder as he walked up to the older man and shook his hand.

"I'm not saying that it's not brilliant to see you, 'cause it is, but where the hell have you been Sirius?" Ron said with equal amounts of confusion and accusation. "We could have done with your help before – where were you when He.. Voldemort was fighting us? Last we knew you were trapped in that curtain thing, and Bellatrix kind of..." He shrugged. "Well you should be dead, and since you don't look like an Inferi or a Zombie, that means that you are you, and so why..."

"Smooth, Ron, nice to see that you're as tactful as ever." Glancing at Hermione, Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that you want to marry him? It's not too late to back out."

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched. "He's got his uses."

"My little brother," Charlie ignored the fact that Ron was two inches taller than him, "does have a point though. "Why have you been brought back? Why now? And by whom?"

Feeling horribly guilty, Derek put his hand up as though he was in class and coughed loudly, trying desperately to avoid his mother's eyes.

"Umm that might have been, I mean a bit sort of I didn't mean to but my fault."

"Your fault?" Sarah smiled as her son blushed crimson when the pretty Miss Granger turned her attention to him. "Sorry," the brunette wrinkled her nose. "I'm being horribly rude aren't I?" Extending her hand to Sarah the two of them shook hands. "We've met before haven't we? Mrs Os.."

"Osaka," Sarah supplied. "Yes, at Charlie's birthday party last year. This is my son Derek."

Derek, to her eternal pride had managed to gather his wits about him and held his hand out formally, shaking Hermione's with a dignity that almost made one overlook the fact that he was clad in oversized pyjamas and had a bit of fried egg stuck in his hair.

"Nice to meet you Derek," Hermione replied. "This is Ron, my fiancée." The lanky red-haired man gave a grin that made both Derek and Sarah immediately warm to him.

"Mrs Osaka, I remember you, nice if a bit weird given the circumstances to see you again. Good to meet you Derek, like the jammies – I had some similar but Hermione made me throw them out."

Sarah met Hermione's eyes and stifled a smile when the younger woman mouthed _too many holes._

"What do you mean it was your fault?" Sirius asked gently. "Its ok Derek, you aren't in any trouble, but we really need to know what happened."

Derek wrestled internally for a couple of moments before deciding to just tell the truth.

""I was bored at work with mum," he said reluctantly, "so I went for a wander round the storage rooms. Sorry," he glanced at his mother.

"It's alright." Sarah touched her son on the shoulder. "Carry on."

"Anyway," Derek continued. "Someone was coming down the corridor so I kind of fell into a room by mistake and tried to hide. There was a big curtain thing so I hid behind that, and I sort of accidentally knocked it over, and then Sirius was there."

"You didn't say anything? Accidentally say a spell?" Ron asked.

"No." Derek shook his head. "Anyway if I had done then I'd have done under-age magic and the Ministry would know and expel me." He looked at Charlie nervously. "I'm not going to be expelled am I? I know I shouldn't have been exploring, but I didn't bring Sirius back deliberately."

Charlie shook his head. "I can't see why they would, Dez. Whatever happened here is way beyond a first years capability for magic."

"Voldemort.." Sirius started, only to shut up quickly when Sarah glared at him.

"My son is not the next coming of Voldemort!" she snapped. "He can't even do a Lumos spell properly yet!"

"Mum..." Derek practically squirmed with embarrassment.

"Alright." Charlie held his hand up for calm and got between Sirius and Sarah. "Let's get things straight. If Derek is the next coming of Voldemort then I'm hippogriff. Derek might have triggered something, but if he did then it was completely unintentional. What we really need to look at is the veil – that's where it all happened. This is powerful magic, it must have left a trace."

"Yeah, you're right." Ron looked at Hermione. "You've got the best connections of us all in the Ministry, any chance of us getting that veil out so we can test it without a load of questions."

The brunette bit her lip in thought. "I'm not sure. If it was to do with wizard/muggle relations then yes, what I say goes, but this is really out of my jurisdiction. I'd need a really good reason to ask for access."

"What if you said that it used to belong to a muggle," Derek piped up. "And said that they wanted it back."

"It's a good idea, mate," Charlie said kindly, "but even when the veil wasn't spitting out undead members of the Order Of The Phoenix it was still well known to people who are into that sort of thing. It's definitely magical – a muggle turning up to claim it would raise a lot of questions."

"_I_ could claim it," Sirius offered. "My bloodline goes back practically to the dinosaurs – for all I know it _is _a Black heirloom. Since I apparently died in it and came back out of it then doesn't that kind of make it mine by default?"

"Bad idea." Hermione shook her head and looked at the people around her. "Look, can't you see? Sirius is back from the dead. And I'm really, truly glad about that," she gave Sirius an earnest attempt at a smile. "But if this gets public, especially before we know what's truly going on with the veil then it'll be chaos.

"Hermione.. I think you're over-reacting a bit here..." Ron began, but Hermione cut him off.

Squeezing her fiancé's hand, she looked first at him and then at Charlie. "Tell me that when you heard that Sirius was back you didn't wonder if you could bring Fred back too."

Both men avoided her gaze, and the young witch sighed in understanding. "It's the first thing I'd think of too, and it's the first thing everyone who lost anyone during the war or before, or after is going to think too."

"And not just loved ones," Sarah said softly. "Voldemort still has his supporters even now."

Ron shook his head. "We destroyed the Horcruxes, Harry killed him."

"Mrs Osaka's right," Hermione replied. "Voldemort is well and truly dead, all the little bits of his soul gone gods knows where, but don't you see? Wherever he is, in whatever place you go to when you die, he's complete. I don't know if it's possible to bring him or anyone else back like Sirius, but there are people out there who might give it a try."

"That's comforting," Sirius murmured. "So what do we do now?"

Hermione shrugged. "Keep quiet, lay low and work on a plan to get the veil out of storage."

"What about Harry?"Sirius's words were matter of fact, but Sarah couldn't miss the longing in his gray eyes. "Does he know about me?"

Ron dropped his eyes apologetically. "Sorry. He's in India at the moment sorting out a cache of DeathEater weapons and Merlin knows what. They still haven't managed to take down all of the wards so Flooing and Portkeying is out, and we didn't want to send an owl until we were sure that you, were well, you."

"Fair enough." Sirius said quietly. "Perhaps it would be possible to see him soon?"

"We'll get word to him as soon as we can." Hermione walked over to the tall man and took his hand. "Harry's going to be over the moon when he hears what's happened."

"So long as he doesn't go hex crazy when he sees me." He shook his head when Hermione attempted to reiterate her apology. "It's ok, I'd have done the same."

"So, umm do you want to stay with us?" Ron offered. "You're welcome to. There's not much room, but we've got a cosy sleeping bag and Hermione isn't as bad at cooking as she used to be."

"I'm better at it than you," Hermione retorted good naturedly. "At least I haven't set the kitchen on fire yet. But Ron's right – mi casa es su casa." When everyone but Sarah looked at her in complete bafflement, she smiled. "It's Spanish – it means if you want to come and stay then my house, well flat, is like your flat too."

Sirius felt a lump form in his throat. Not since the halcyon days of Hogwarts had he felt the warmth of such unconditional kindness. Glancing between Hermione, pretty, self assured and Ron, kind, good humoured and generous, he noticed their hands reach for one another and knew that he couldn't take them up on their offer. Merlin knew if he were newly engaged he wouldn't want someone like him crashing on their sofa and spoiling their fun.

"That's really kind of you," he began, "but..."

"Sirius is staying with us," Derek interrupted. "Isn't he mum?"

"Err." Sarah looked a little startled.

"We found him," Derek continued, "so it's up to us to look after him even if he isn't a dog anymore." Bulldozing on before Sarah could shush him, he continued. "Anyway, if it gets out what I sort of did, and if loads of people are going to look for Sirius then they'll be looking for people who knew him, and we don't. Well we didn't before anyway, and we have a sofa and a blanket and he can help me make breakfast as well." Slightly out of breath, he looked at the adults infront of him expectantly.

Sarah was about to protest, but glancing over at Sirius she found it hard to form the words. For such a tall man he looked very lost and alone. Meeting his apologetic grey eyes she cut him off before he could offer her a way out of the situation.

"Derek is right. Both you and Hermione are in the Daily Prophet enough," she said to Ron. "You'll have reporters camped on your doorstep day and night if they find out Sirius Black has turned up and is living with you. No-one's going to pay much attention to this place and you're more than welcome to stay, Sirius if you don't mind sleeping on the sofa," Sarah said quietly. "Just until things are sorted out."

Sirius looked at Derek, hands tucked into the sleeves of his oversized pyjama top, his eyes hopeful, and then at Sarah, a little shy but resolute. The edge of her mouth twitched in a half smile.

"I promise not to stupify you again. Not unless you deserve it anyway."

Sirius stifled a grin. "Are you sure?" Truth be told he didn't have many options. True he was a rich man, but getting to his funds meant revealing himself and since that wasn't a good idea for the moment hotels were out. He couldn't bring himself to impose on Ron and Hermione, Harry was out of reach and everyone else he knew was apparently dead. That left Sarah and Derek, and honestly it really wasn't that difficult to persuade himself that he was just being practical, and that the decision had nothing at all to do with the fact that he liked the kid and his mother made him wish that he was the Sirius Black of old who broke hearts with out even bothering to learn the witch or muggle's last name most of the time.

Sarah nodded briskly. "Right then, that's sorted."

* * *

Lunch was a somewhat subdued affair. Ron, Hermione and Charlie had to go to work but promised to keep both Sirius and Sarah updated as to what they could find out regarding the veil. Given the necessity of keeping Sirius's resurrection secret it might be a while before they managed to get access to any information that would shed any light on the situation though, a fact that was apparently not lost on Sirius.

Watching the tall man nibble his cheese on toast, obviously trying hard to answer Derek's questions, Sarah wondered for a brief silly moment if she should have made a smiley tomato face on her guest's snack like she had done for her son. Sirius looked up as though he had heard her thoughts and gave her a half hearted smile.

"Nice grub, Sarah, thanks."

"You're welcome." The words came automatically, but the butterflies in her stomach were a bit of a surprise. _Pack it in you silly mare,_ she told herself firmly. _He's just being nice. _Nonetheless when lunch was cleared away she found herself at a bit of a dilemma. Derek still had several books to read in readiness for starting his second year of Hogwarts, and she really needed to start drafting a copy of her defence for when she would inevitably be called infront of her superiors at work, but she couldn't see either her or her son concentrating for more than five minutes, and Sirius looked like he was about to start climbing the walls any second. Almost startling herself, she summoned the dirty plates, muttered a quick scourgifying spell and settled them neatly on the side board.

"Right then," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Since it's a lovely sunny day, and Merlin knows we don't get many of those, I reckon we should all go out for a walk."

Derek, obviously anticipating an order to get on with his homework, beamed. "Can we go to the park? There's a bit of crust in the bread bin, and I'm not going to eat it, and you won't eat it, and you can't give it to Sirius, I mean Mr Black, and the ducks are probably hungry.."

Sarah laughed. "Alright Hyde Park it is. Off you go and change - you aren't going out in your pyjamas, and give your hamster cage a quick clean up while you're at it – Neville is your pet, and his cage is starting to smell. You've got half an hour."

"Alright mum." Derek's words were almost lost to the thunder of his feet as he bolted up the stairs.

Sarah gave Sirius an apologetic look. "Sorry, I should have asked first – you don't have to come if you'd rather not."

"Oh no. No." He gave her a great beam of a smile, _and really, _Sarah thought, _there should be warnings against a man looking that attractive even when he wasn't trying to flirt. The Wizengamot should definitely be informed. _"I'd like to see what's changed. I used to like Hyde Park – do the pixies still cause trouble 'round the Serpentine boat hire?"

Sarah laughed. "Not so much now, not since the treaty between Wizards and magical creatures was signed. You do still get the odd obnoxious tourist dumped into the lake by what they call "mysterious forces" though. They had a camera crew down there looking for poltergeists last year for some muggle television programme."

"Really?" Sirius looked intrigued. "What happened?"

"Pixies shot a load of light around, dumped the camera in the river when no-one was looking and the TV presenter got so excited that he wet himself."

Sirius blinked. "Sounds like quite the event. Were you there?"

"No." Sarah shook her head. "I taped it though when it was on tv. You can watch it later if you want."

_TV. _Sirius looked at the black box in the corner of the lounge. He wasn't totally unfamiliar with the devices having had a couple of muggle girlfriends back when he was younger, but the device Sarah owned was a lot smaller and sleeker than he remembered television sets to have been.

"Derek said that his dad was a muggle," he said cautiously.

"He was." Sarah immediately felt herself become defensive. "Is that a problem?"

"No_." __Shit, well done, Sirius, _he told himself, _could have phrased that better. _"I mean.." he stumbled for the right words. "I like muggles, my cousin Andromeda married one, nicest guy you'd ever meet, and I .." _sometimes shagged,almost fell in love with one, liked going down muggle pubs and sharing a pint, saved a lot of them _"I don't have the prejudices my name would imply."

"Good," Sarah said almost primly, "because bloodlines don't hold much weight in my house. We treat people by their actions not their heritage."

"Sorry," Sirius muttered. Sarah's dark eyes flashed dangerously bright, her narrow shoulders squared. He had an irrational desire to dart around the table and kiss her in a bizarre and wholly inappropriate way of making amends, but retained enough self control to keep himself in check. "I was just a bit surprised to see so many muggle appliances around that's all – we weren't allowed any in our house when we were growing up." Seeing that Sarah had settled down a little, he looked again at the television set in the corner of the lounge. "Would you show me how that works maybe?"

Sarah laughed – forget dog, the look he gave her was almost puppyish.

"Alright," she agreed. "But if you get hooked on soap operas then I claim no responsibility."

Sirius smiled. "I don't know if that's some sort of bath related musical, in which case you're probably safe, but whatever it is then I promise."

"Good." getting to her feet, Sarah shoved open the door to a small cupboard in the utility room. Dragging out two coats, one a green wax jacket that had seen better days, and a dark blue duffel coat, she re-hung the wax jacket after giving Sirius a critical look before handing him the other coat.

"Put it on," she said. "This one'll probably fit you better."

Shrugging it on, Sirius winced as the material streched uncomfortably over his shoulders. Sarah took care of that with a quick elongating spell and Sirius pretended not to be affected by her touch when she smoothed the material across his back. _Thank Merlin his trousers fit fairly well, he thought gratefully, or he would have been in serious trouble._

Walking around him, Sarah tugged the collar of the coat and looked at him critically. With a flick of her wand she summoned a blue baseball cap from the hallway and handed it to him.

"Just incase. I can't imagine anyone recognising you, but might as well be doubly safe right?"

"Good thinking." Sirius shoved the hat on, pulling the peak down over his eyes. "What do you reckon?"

_Bloody sexy_ , Sarah thought to herself. "You'll do," she said non-committally, saved from further comment by Derek bounding down the stairs. "Right then, let's go."

Moving towards the fireplace, anticipating a floo journey, Sirius was a bit embarrassed when Sarah opened the front door and stepped outside, but when Derek hurried over, grabbed him by the hand and led him outside, he looked up at the sun, warm, bright and blessedly familiar, and smiled.

**A/n: Back to this story – sorry for the wait, frequent updates from now on.**

Jammies: pyjamas


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me. This is a bit AU so some of the timelines will be off especially when it comes to The Deathly Hallows epilogue.**

**Cheers Bryher forgiving me a (metaphorical) kick up the bum to keep this going.**

Derek chucked a piece of bread towards a duck who ignored it and swam off towards the little island in the lake. _He couldn't really blame it, _he thought. _His mum had decided that bread with weird seeds and stuff in it was good for him. He'd taken to buying sliced white bread, hiding it in his closet and toasting it when she worked late. _As rebellions went it was a bit rubbish he acknowledged. But when he got older maybe he'd get an earring like Bill Weasley (and possibly pull a part Veeler – girls were harder to understand than "Hogwarts A History," but Fleur Weasley was seriously fit). That or a flying motorbike.

And speaking of flying motorbikes... Derek shredded the last of the bread that he'd been given and pretended not to watch his mother and Sirius Black.

For an older lady she was very pretty, he reckoned. Of course she was his mum so his opinion wasn't exactly objective, but as the man of the house it was up to him to look after her he reasoned, and even if she would be forty in six years she probably still knew how to do sex. Sirius Black might be a war hero but he was still a stranger. A Pixie crashed into the wards guarding the lake from Muggles, and Derek threw the last bit of bread in his hand at it. The creature abandoned the glamour that made it look like a dragonfly, caught it in mid-air, bit a chunk off the missile before flying off, and the boy tried to decide what to do.

On the one hand his mum looked happy and relaxed, smiling up at Sirius while checking to see where he himself was every couple of minutes. Sirius Black on the other hand looked a bit ridiculous in clothes that didn't fit him very well and too tense to be an average person out on a walk with his girlfriend. His hand gripped his mother's tightly though and he kept looking at her as though she was the only thing he could understand. Once or twice he actually laughed at something she said and Derek felt inwardly proud. His mum always knew the right words to make things better.

So what was the right thing for _him_ to do? His mum hadn't even looked at another bloke since his dad died, but this was Harry Potter's godfather, a war hero. Should he be protective and give Sirius a lecture about leaving his mum alone or ask him if he still had a flying motorbike? Shoving his hands in his pockets he followed them at what he deemed to be a decent distance away until his mum gave him a smile and held out her hand. Derek took it more out of habit than anything and just managed to stop himself from tucking his other hand in her back pocket like he used to do when he was a little boy.

"Fed the pixies?" Sirius smiled at him, grey eyes sparkling with mischief, and Derek found himself grinning back.

"Yep. The ministry made extra wards to stop them getting out and annoying the Muggles though. One time they made one of the ducks lay golden eggs."

"Really?" Sirius looked at Sarah who shook her head.

"Really."She rolled her eyes wearily. " One of the junior clerical assistants is still sorting out the paperwork. The Magical Beings truce is holding up pretty well but kids will be kids whatever species they are."

Derek gave the big dark haired man a quick look and tried not to echo the smile that flitted over his face. There were still legends about the Marauders whispered by the older kids at Hogwarts. Seraphim Patrice who shared his Defence Against Dark Arts class even had a picture of what had once been known as "The Shrieking Shack" spelled onto the back cover of her "History of Hogwarts" book. His own attempts at rebellion had currently died with the time stole a lollipop from the local corner shop and had felt so guilty that he had put it back the next day without anyone noticing. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and James Potter though... Even the Weasley twins weren't as brave as them depending on what book you read.

"Did you really have a flying motorbike, ?" He asked.

Sirius gave him smile that made him look a lot younger than he must be.

"A Rexeton X3." He gave a sigh. "Naught to eighty in ten seconds and handled like a pro-witch after a dozen butterbeers."

Sarah glared at him and Sirius scrambled to backtrack. "I mean it was a really good bike, the last I heard Hagrid had it." Trying to remember whether Hagrid had made it through the war that he had managed to miss, he glanced at Sarah who gave him an annoyed but reassuring smile.

"Hagrid's still at Hogwarts. So are Fang and Buckbeak. Charlie checks them over from time to time as the dog and hippogriff are getting on a bit. Headmaster McGonagall gave Hagrid a bigger house but apparently you have to fight for room by the fire in the sitting room. Buckbeak has the sofa, Fang has the armchair and Hagrid has a stool that Professor Flitwick mends every other week." She gave a thoughtful smile. "He's not really a teacher anymore but he's still groundskeeper and the kids love him."

"I'm glad." Sirius smiled at the thought of the gentle half giant. The man deserved to be happy.

It didn't take long to wander around the park, but by the time Sarah had unlocked the door to her modest house and put the kettle on, Sirius was exhausted.

Watching her bustle about the kitchen making tea, he wished that he could do something for her. Buy her a bunch of flowers perhaps. Or take her for a ride on his broom. _Except you don't own a broom any more and accessing his Gringotts vault probably wasn't a very good idea until everything was sorted out, he thought in annoyance. What did he have at all? _He watched her huff her dark hair out of her eyes as she poured the milk into the mugs and thought how pretty she was. Not his usual type at all, but then what at all was usual these days? All the same though, he'd have to get out of her life as soon as possible if he didn't want to risk dragging her further into his problems.

Realising that Derek was frowning at him, he was saved from attempting an excuse by a loud "pop" and instinctively reaching for the wand that he realised that he no longer had, Sirius grabbed Derek and shoved him towards the kitchen.

"Run," he said tersely.

Derek picked himself up from the corner of the living room he'd stumbled into and looked at Sirius as though he was insane.

"It's ok." Giving a smile at the stocky red-head who had apparated into his house his eyes widened when he saw who had accompanied him. "Mum," he managed to squeak out. "Charlie's here with..."

"Harry?" Sirius breathed, looking at the young man standing next to Charlie Weasley. The boy that he had tried to protect was now a man, and the resemblance to James Potter hit him like a bludger to the gut. _He still had Lily's green eyes though, _Sirius thought dimly. But the way they narrowed as they studied him, the way in which he stepped back with his right foot and automatically found the best way to protect the boy was all James Potter.

"Sirius?" Harry looked almost as shocked as he felt, but his wand didn't waver when he pointed it at his chest. Quickly giving Charlie a glance, he took a deep breath. "What did my dad leave me when he died?"

_Quite a few Galleons, the house.. Oh. _"An invisibility cloak." When Harry lowered his wand he resisted the urge to hug him. "I gave you a mirror once. Do you remember that?"

"Yeah..It got broken. Sorry." Harry Potter took two steps forward and Sirius Black held on tight when he wrapped his arms around him.

"Charlie?" Sarah Oskaka's voive was a little tentative, but the grip on her wand was firm. "Is everything alright?"

The red-head smiled and grabbed Derek's arm as he crossed the living room.

"Everything's fine. Dez would you give me a hand in the garden? I haven't checked for gnomes for a while – if you shake them out then I'll catch ok? Harry and Sirius have a lot of catching up to do."

Derek looked torn between staying to see what happened between one of the heroes of the wizarding world, his mother, and being polite to Charlie who had always been a good friend to him. His mum gave him a look that he recognised as being _"do as Charlie says and keep out of the way," _and so he followed the older man outside, being careful to keep hold of his wand.

The kettle still had a lot of water in it, and since it had recently boiled it wasn't much of a hardship to make another cup of tea. Sarah tried not to stare at the young man sat on her sofa and wished that she had cleaned up the house before allowing a national hero into her living room. Derek had broken her husband's vacuum cleaner years ago and it would be a bit rude to do a scourgifying spell in front of company. Summoning a tray she put the drinks on them and floated them into the living room. Harry Potter gave her a smile and a wholly pointless introduction, Sirius taking his cup of tea with hands that were not altogether steady. He looked so lost that she was tempted to stay with him, but seeing his awkward confusion echoed in Harry Potter's green eyes, she stepped back.

"We'll be out the back if you need us," she said quietly.

Both men watched the woman leave the room and stared at the cups of tea that she had left on the pretty oak table in the middle of the room.

"It's true." Harry's wand was gripped in his hand, his knuckles white. "You're alive. How?"

"I don't know." Sirius gave a rueful laugh that came out more as a bark and Harry gave a half smile of remembrance. "The last time I saw you was in the Department of Mysteries and we were fighting Death Eaters. Apparently Bellatrix killed me."

"Yeah." Harry shifted, obviously uncomfortable with the memory. "We thought that you were gone for good." He tapped his wand against his knee and barely managed to stop himself from accidentally setting the sofa on fire."Things got pretty bad. I didn't think to look for you. No-one else came back." He rubbed a hand through his dark hair and almost dislodged his glasses. "We lost so many in the war. I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. I read about what happened," Sirius said eventually. "Sarah has a book about you".

"Really?" Harry gave a half smile. "Who's it by? According to Flintlock Goldenberry I'm a wizarding breeding experiment between the Magestry of Magic and pro Troll groups."

Sirius blinked. "No offence Harry but aren't Trolls a bit taller than you?"

The young man laughed and took a sip of his tea. "Oh there was weirder stuff than that going around. Luna, you remember Luna right? Blonde hair, brave but a bit dippy?" At Sirius's nod he gave a rueful smile. "Her dad's the editor of "The Quibbler" but she and Neville Longbottom mostly run it now. She sends me some of the madder letters the newspaper gets to make me laugh." Harry put his cup down and studied his godfather. "It's really good to see you Sirius. You have no idea..."

Seeing Harry obviously at a loss as to what to say and finding his chest suddenly too small to breathe in and his eyes stinging with tears, Sirius did the only logical thing that came to mind and pulled his godson to him and hugged him as though the gesture might make up for all the missing years.

* * *

Alison looked around the hundreds of things that had been collected from Death Eaters and inwardly sighed. As a summer job it would look good to prospective employers when she graduated, but cataloguing the mess of items seized by the Ministry Of Magic was going to take forever and most of it was just junk. She'd only asked for the position because it meant that she'd be working with Harry Potter, and he had buggered off goodness know where for "personal reasons."

_Probably reasons involving the annoyingly pretty red-haired woman who was not only a war hero but whose picture was attached to "The Boy who lived's" ridiculously small locker, _she thought grumpily. _She herself wasn't much competition._

Summoning a dustbin Alison tossed the pile of random items that had been cleared for dark magic into it. Most of it was old rubbish that was no good to anyone, but some bits and pieces looked alright, she thought. The little tea-pot that Harry had been holding before he'd hurried off was still sat on the table and Alison paused before rubbing his thumbprint from the shiny steel.

"I wish Voldemort was back so I could have been a hero too", she muttered to herself, tossing it into the bin. "I might have better luck with blokes." She quickly cast a disillusionment charm before grabbing her bag and apparating, and in London the somewhat tattered Veil blanketed the second form of a deceased wizard in the space of less than a week.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Graham Delany wriggled a bit in his seat and tried to get comfortable. While he could remember (with a shiver and a thanks to Merlin that his daughter was to young to) the dark days of the Great War, he couldn't help thinking that after everything in the wizarding world was pretty much put back together the Ministry of Magic might have done something about the chairs. Something about the ones issued to the Holding Warehouses seemed to be deliberately designed to make a bloke's bum numb on one side. Putting down his crossword puzzle on the table that sat beneath the spell-proof glass that separated him from the the corridor to the holding rooms, he checked the monitors that were fed from the Monitor Lizards in each of the warehouses. Aside from the mess that Sarah Osaka's kid had made in 3C not much had changed from five minutes ago; he was still stuck babysitting a lot of junk retrieved from a load of Death Eaters who were now cooling their heels in Azkaban.

_Shame about Sarah, _he thought absently, retrieving the pencil that had rolled under his newspaper. _Nice lady, always had a "hello" and a smile. Didn't seem right that she'd probably be sacked for bringing her kid into the building. But then that was bureaucracy for you. The Malfoys of the world walked free and it was the "little" people who got a kicking by the Ministry. _Licking the tip of the nib of his pencil he frowned at the black and white squares and the clues that were begging to be solved.

"Gambit." Graham smiled in triumph as one question gave up its mystery. "Opening move." Quickly scribbling the letters onto the paper he almost didn't notice when all the monitors went black, but the sudden feeling that something was wrong had him discarding the pencil and grabbing his wand almost without realising what he was doing. Instinct, he thought, with the strange irrational clarity of adrenaline._ His daughte_r _Katie's muggle school books didn't describe it nearly well enough when he'd helped her with her biology homework._

Down the corridor the lights blinked out one by one, and Graham forced himself to move. The panic button below his desk exploded before he could reach it, and stumbling backwards he raised his wand shakily. Darkness fell before he had even time to acknowledge the shattering light above him or feel the sting of the shards of glass that rained down, but in the last flicker of illumination he saw the man who stalked down the corridor towards him. Eyes blazing, flat nosed and terrifying, the man swept forward, what was left of what might have been a curtain wrapped around him. The face belonged in history books, not here, and Graham's scream turned into a whimper when Voldemort apparated into his little office and then everything really did go black.

* * *

"_We'll be back as soon as we can." _

Asking Charlie to.. well babysit a not-as-dead-as-he-was-supposed-to-be war hero was seriously pushing the boundaries of friendship, but it wasn't as though Sarah had many other options. Harry Potter had left, politely declining her offer of lunch earlier and promising to return soon, and so had luckily not seen her pathetic attempt at cheerfulness when the mail owl had arrived. Derek of course had seen straight through her as usual when she opened the letter from her employers and gave her a worried smile, but luckily Sirius and Charlie were too engrossed in their conversation to notice that her hands weren't quite steady when she shoved the letter in the kitchen drawer.

Sarah tucked everything from her muggle passport to her spare quill into her handbag. She had to collect the right forms from Diagon Alley to explain why she had taken her son into her place of work. _Not to mention why she had taken an actual person out of it. Her employment record was immaculate, Derek had never been in any trouble_ _. They'd be alright._ _Probably_. _But if she lost her job then what? There was the mortgage on the house, Derek's school stuff to buy, and it wasn't as though she had any family that would take them in if the worst came to the worst..._

Quickly sorting out her son's duffel coat, that as usual he had buttoned up wrong making him look like an unfortunate urchin from Oliver Twist, Sarah grabbed her own coat and then Derek's hand.

_"_You two'll be alright until I get back won't you?" She asked Sirius and Charlie. From his position sprawled on the sofa Charlie raised an eyebrow and Sirius gave a weary but amused smile_._

_Yeah, two grown men with combat experience could probably cope for a couple of hours sat in her living room. Nice one Sarah,_she thought.

"We'll be fine."Charlie gave her a searching look. "You ok?"

"Yep," Sarah kept her voice light and breezy and didn't quite meet his eyes. "Just some boring work stuff to do. I won't be long." When he babysat Derek occasionally she usually left with instructions about what he was or more relevant wasn't allowed to watch on television or eat before dinner, but looking at Sirius Black, big, handsome and watching her as though she might be a little bit mad, Sarah managed to stop her mouth running away from her and didn't give her friend any of the automatic instructions.

"See you later." Tucking Derek beside her she apparated before she could embarrass herself further.

"Sarah looked worried."

Charlie was a little surprised that Sirius had noticed. Sarah was good at hiding her emotions – having to take care of a scared little boy and deal with her husband's death probably explained it. He found her hard to read sometimes and he'd known her since they were kids.

"I can't imagine her bosses are too happy with her at the moment." He tried to think of a polite way of saying that Sirius's miraculous return from the dead might have cost the woman who had taken him in her job.

Sirius saved him the trouble. Leaning forward he rubbed a hand over a slightly stubbled cheek in frustration. "Because of me."

"It's not like you asked for any of this to happen," Charlie pointed out.

"Nor did she." The idea that he might have hurt both her and Derek simply by being the recipient of their kindness made him feel slightly ill. "If she loses her job then I've got money..."

Charlie cut him off before he could continue. "She'd hex you if you tried. Seriously. If you want to piss Sarah off then let her think that you feel sorry for her; you've already died once, don't do it again."

Sirius couldn't help but laugh. "Why, would you miss me?"

"Fuck no." The red head shook his head. "Do you know how many crappy biographies there are about you because of the first time you died? Do it again and the publishing industry is going to go into meltdown. Mum's got a thing about biographies – every bloody christmas I get a load that she buys even though she knows most of it is rubbish. I was hoping for socks this year."

"Hmm." Sirius processed this new information. "There are books about me?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "You have no idea. Actually you probably don't want to know. Some of the things..." He looked at Sirius thoughtfully. "Did you ever shag a mermaid?"

"What?"

"Thought not. I don't see how that would work anyway. Just stay away from Gulliver Brooke's writing that's all I'm going to say. Anyway, you'll probably be needing one of these." Charlie bent down and fished around in the extremely battered rucksack that he'd dumped beside Sarah's sofa.

_Sarah would probably would be pissed off if he dirtied up the upholstery, _Sirius thought. Charlie had also kicked off his trainers as soon as he had apparated into the lounge with a carelessness that spoke of habit. Sirius looked at them, big and well worn next to Derek's school shoes in the corner of the room and felt a sudden surge of irrational jealousy. Squashing the emotion down – _what right did he have to get territorial all of sudden? Hell Sarah and Derek weren't his; he didn't even actually own any shoes of his own for Merlin's sake, _it took a moment for him to realise what Charlie was holding out to him.

The wand was beautiful. Definitely Ollivander's work; no-one else could get that balance between practicality and aesthetics. The twisted dark wood practically called to him when Charlie held it out to him, _and oh how good would it be to have some control over his life; to be able to protect himself and those around him? _but the look in the younger man's eyes stopped him from taking it.

"Go on, it's yours." Charlie's voice was steady but he didn't quite meet Sirius's eyes. "You shouldn't ... I mean if you're going to be here.." Huffing in annoyance he practically threw the wand at Sirius who caught it by reflex. "Sarah can't do defensive spells for shit and Derek's likely to get himself hauled up infront of the Wizengamot before he even gets past his first year when the press find out that you're here. I can't be around all the time."

"He does seem to be a bit impulsive." Sirius curled his fingers around the slender piece of wood, a tiny part of him that he hadn't realised was dormant giving a short, sharp kick to his chest and making the wand quiver in his hand as though it too had been awakened. Swallowing hard, he looked at Charlie. The red head looked exhausted, his eyes fixed on the wand that he had given him.

_Wands had owners – they chose them. Everyone knew that be they Order Of The Phoenix or Death Eaters. So this one must have belonged to someone... _Sirius put the wand down on the small table beside him. For a moment both he and Charlie looked at it as though it might start talking and break the silence.

"This was your brother's wasn't it?" Sirius said quietly. "I read about Fred. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Well." Looking away, Charlie eventually shrugged. "He'd probably laugh if he knew that you had it. The Marauders were kind of role models to him and George, anyway you helped make that map they had so it's fair trade really." Neither of them spoke for a moment, stuck in the limbo of being too familiar with each other to exchange empty platitudes and not friendly enough to exchange stories about fallen friends.

Sirius looked at the wand on the table. "Are you sure that George wouldn't want it?"

"No. He gave it to me right after the last battle. I don't think he wanted to..." Charlie realised that he had been systematically shredding a tissue that had fallen out of his backpack when he'd liberated Fred's wand and squashed the grubby paper in his fist. "George is in Tunisia anyway." At Sirius's incredulous expression Charlie shrugged. "That joke shop that they thought up really took off; you think that the Death Eaters grovelled to Voldemort ? You should see Gringots' goblins suck up to him. He keeps trying to buy mum and dad a new house- mum just gets pissed off and dad has all this.." Charlie rolled his eyes and tossed the bits of tissue into the bin by the fireplace. "You know how he likes muggle stuff? George got him subscribed to this shop called Argos. Dad calls the catalogue The Laminated Book Of Dreams from some comedian he'd heard of. Let's just say if I never see another kettle again then I'll be happy. He's got about thirty now, most of them in bits in the shed."

Sirius tried and failed to picture either of the Weasley twins as being anything other than lanky and ginger. There were lots of words that could be attributed to the family but "rich" or "intimidating" wasn't one of them.

But then there were a lot of things that he had apparently missed. He tried to picture Fred without George or George without Fred and couldn't. The two came as a pair. They were just kids anyway. Kids weren't supposed to get killed in wars.

Feeling slightly sick, Sirius looked at his tea. The motif on it proclaimed that the owner of the mug was not keen on mondays. Sirius was inclined to agree with the sentiment, although what was the actual day? He glanced at the calender on the wall before realising that without a newspaper he wasn't sure what he had to check the dates against or what good it would do anyway.

"It's not all bad news though." Charlie gave a half-hearted smile. "We have Harry Potter Day now. It's on the second of january so people get to sleep off their hang-overs for an extra day after new year. If you ever really want to piss of your godson then go down Diagon Alley at Christmas. They have these charmed little flags with his face on. Mum put them up as a joke last year when he and Ginny went over to theirs for Christmas. Bill actually had to talk Harry out of hanging himself with the scarf she'd knitted him."

Sirius stifled a smile. He'd only met Molly Weasley a couple of times but had liked her a lot. Her I'm-going-to-do-whatever-I-think-is-best-and-don't-you-argue attitude had reminded him a lot of cousin Andromeda. He'd been too young to apparate or portkey to the wedding between her and her muggle boyfriend but he had sent her a card by owl and patted the burnt out patch that had been her face on the family tree that had been pasted on the wall of Grimmauld Place each morning.

Now according to the book that he had read she was a grandmother. Moony had pulled his head out of his arse, hooked up with Tonks and brought a son into the world. _Good for you, Remus, _he mused.

Realising that he had been drifting off into his thoughts a little, Sirius glanced at the front door. Sarah and Derek would be back soon. Aside from Charlie who probably wouldn't look presentable even after a dozen of his mother's hair straightening spells the house looked fairly tidy. Picking up a cushion that was slightly squashed, Sirius paused when Charlie laughed.

"She won't notice, mate. Dez'll wreck the place in two minutes anyway."

"You seem to be the expert on her." The words came out a little sharper than he had intended.

Charlie paused, half way to the porch, his discarded trainers dangling from his hands. "I'm her friend."

"Sorry." Sirius rubbed a hand through his shaggy hair. "If you two are... Together... I mean not that I have a chance with her but I wouldn't..."

"I'm her friend," Charlie repeated. "We'd be perfect in theory but we don't work like that. I'm cursed with two sisters; Ginny and Sarah and on top of that I'm Derek's godfather. Just to make things clear though, if I thought that you would hurt them then Sarah and I would be discussing spells to bury a dead body in the back garden." Tossing the shoes into a pile of wellington boots and a discarded kite, Charlie shut the door to the porch firmly and locked it. "You know for someone who was supposed to be the sex-god of Hogwarts you're pretty crap at reading the signals she's been giving you," he said, rummaging around in his pocket for some Floo Powder. Coming up empty he snagged his duffel bag and gave a smile of triumph when he came across a little packet of powder. "I'm not her dad or her brother, but I know she hasn't smiled like this for a long time. Give her a chance. "

The sound of the key in the front door made them both jump. Sirius reached for the wand he had been given automatically and Charlie tucked his away as soon as he heard Derek arguing with his mother about charming the birds in their front garden in to different colours.

"Wasn't joking about burying you in the back garden," the stocky red-head warned. Throwing a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace he made an almost perfectly timed exit, blowing Sarah a kiss and giving Derek a wink as the pair entered their house.

**_A/N for non Brits Argos_ is like a big warehouse that sells pretty much everything from jewellery to chainsaws. You flick through the catalogues in the front of the shop, write down the item number that you want on a bit of paper, pay for it, wait for ages and then go to the counter when some poor (often tired looking student) person fishes it out of the warehouse when eventually your purchase turns up. It's a bit of a mad idea for a shop really but works in Britain because we quite like queueing for some reason. **

**The "Laminated Book Of Dreams" line is shamelessly pinched from a very funny Comedian called Bill Bailey. Some of his stuff is on youtube; if you like daft, funny stuff by a bloke that looks like he fell out of The Hobbit then he's your guy :) **

**As always thanks for reading, and cheers reviewing shaped people.**


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